Immaturity At Its Finest
by Persephone Price
Summary: Nathan/OC. Strong language! I changed the rating from M because - let's be honest - if you're watching the show, nothing in here will scandalize you. Sporadic updates.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: Hey, guys! So, I've just recently gotten into this show and I have to say that it is amazing. I know this sort of story has been done before, but this is my take on it. Hopefully some of you will enjoy it. Also, I've never written in 1st person or in present tense before, so this is a bit of practice for me. And I'm not British. So, if the dialogue doesn't make sense or I use a slang term wrong or one that is American, I'm sorry! Feel free to correct me!  
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**This is going to sound really strange, but I actually wrote this before the Christmas episode, so I independently came up with the character of Marnie. She's not the same Marnie. I thought about changing her name to avoid confusion, but I decided that it was too much of a coincidence so I just left it. It has to be a sign or something, right?**

**I hope you all like this! Sorry for such a massive a/n! :-)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Misfits.**

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><p>Shit. This whole thing was going to be absolute shit. I shouldn't even be here. I shouldn't be in trouble. I did nothing wrong.<p>

And yet here I am, stuck doing 200 hours of community service with six other delinquents, and they all look about as dull as dishwater. Fantastic.

We're lined up, like the criminals we are, preparing for some mindless lecture about how we need to improve. I'm near the center of the group, and there are six others. The kid on my left's pretty tall, made significantly taller by a thick mop of curly dark hair. He's not bad looking until he opens his mouth; when he starts talking I scold myself for even looking twice at the little prick. On my right there's a chav girl with large earrings and dirty blonde hair scraped back so tightly that her face is stretched. Next to her is a girl with mocha skin and short, frizzy hair. They're both shorter and fleshier than I am. This other one is very pretty, but the way she's texting away on her mobile tells me that she's the most vacuous out of all of us. Next to her there's a creepy looking kid with his dingy orange jumpsuit buttoned all the way to the top and his hands shoved in his pockets. Next to the twat beside me there's a short, brutish boy who's taken great pains to look tough despite his unassuming stature. To his right is a tall, dark, and athletic guy wearing his jumpsuit only to the waist. For some odd reason, he looks strangely familiar and I wonder if perhaps he is a famous sports player of some sort. I was never good at recognizing those sorts of people.

Our probation worker comes out and spews some bullshit about giving back to the community. I'm not paying attention. The curly-haired kid and the one with the cap get into a spat, but it ends pretty quickly. The probation worker gets frustrated and eventually leaves us to paint some benches.

As we're working, several obnoxious things happen. First, the poser boy has a bloody conniption because he's got paint on his cap. He storms off angrily, leaving everyone thankful that he's gone. Then, the annoying Irish wanker starts asking everyone what they're in for, to which the chav girl replies, "A girl called me a slag; I got in a fight," in what was arguably the most ridiculous accent I've ever heard. I resist the urge to laugh – I know that if she and I were to get into a fight, I would definitely lose.

He addresses the creepy kid – who's working across from me – and says, "What about you, weird kid? Don't take this the wrong way, but you look like a panty sniffer." He then proceeds to mimic the action of what I assume is sniffing panties. Again, I resist the urge to laugh. Not because his absurd charades are funny, but because he, too, finds this kid disconcerting.

"I'm not a panty sniffer," replies the creepy kid a bit pathetically, "I'm not a pervert." I eye him skeptically, not quite convinced. I was getting all sorts of weird vibes from this clown.

As the twat begins making some obscene motions with his paintbrush (use your imagination), Creepy finally exclaims, "I tried to burn someone's house down!" His voice cuts through the silence and hangs in the air. I can't say I'm surprised by this discovery. He does look like a bit of a pyro…

"What'd you do?" the chav gruffly asks the Irish kid after a moment.

"Me? I was done for, uh… eating pick 'n' mix."

"Bollocks," says Chav.

"You're not serious," I pipe in dryly, speaking for the first time.

Curly looks at me and raises his thick eyebrows dramatically. "You speak, do you? I thought you might be one of those mute, homicidal types."

"Funny," I say sarcastically, flicking a bit of paint at him. Before I can say any more, there's a flash of lightning and a loud boom of thunder overhead. We all tilt our heads up towards the sky.

Just then, the probation worker reappears and reprimands us for not getting any work done. I can tell that Curly's about to blow off another smartass comment, but, before it leaves his mouth, a boulder-sized piece of hail plummets down and pummels the roof of a nearby car.

"That's my car!" laments the probation worker.

"Classic!" Curly laughs.

The probation worker quickly orders us to get inside, and we don't need to be told twice. He's fumbling miserably with his keys and we're all screaming at him to hurry up as more hail falls from the sky and flashes of lightning illuminate the black clouds overhead. But, before we can get inside the community center, a huge bolt of lightning strikes us and we're all thrown back onto the pavement.

I feel as if I've been electrocuted, as if I'm dead. There's no way I could have survived this.

I slowly open my eyes to see us all in one piece. I'm surprised, and everyone else seems to share my sentiments.

"We should be dead," mutters Creepy in a voice that was, well… creepy.

Curly stands up and says, "A little reassurance would be nice, you know." He turns and looks at the probation worker. "You're fine! Looking good!"

"Wanker," the man mumbled.

I raise my eyebrows in surprise and try to hide smirk.

"Did he just call me a wanker?" Curly demands. He points his finger at me accusatorily. "You there, don't you laugh! It's not funny, we could have died!"

I break out into a full smile and deadpan, "Are you just going to stand there pointing your finger at me, or are you going to help a girl up?"

Curly looks puzzled by my response, but nevertheless holds his hand out and hoists me into a standing position. "Jesus, you weigh a ton," he complains, brushing off the front of his jumpsuit.

"Thanks a lot, you insensitive prick," I reply dramatically, "now I'm going to go home and starve myself. I'll have an eating disorder because of _you_. You're exactly what's wrong with today's society."

Surprisingly, Curly grins at me. "You're all right, you," he says, slowly stepping closer. "I like a girl who can give it as well as she can take it." His tone is just about as lewd as I've ever heard anyone's, and I make a face in disgust. Before I can slap him or otherwise respond, Chav interrupts.

"If you two're done dicking around, let's go inside, yeah?" she says impatiently. It's only when I hear her voice that I realize we're blocking the door.

"Right. Sorry," I reply apologetically. I pass through the door, giving Curly an evil glare over my shoulder.

In the locker room, I get my stuff as quickly as possible. As I'm shoving my belongings into my bag, the slutty girl is applying a thick layer of lip-gloss and Chav's combing her hair back into a ponytail. All of a sudden, she turns around and yells at Slut, "Wot did ya say?"

"Nothing," Slut replies, confused and defensive. I look between both of them, equally perplexed. _Chav here's looking to start a fight on the first day_, I think to myself in amusement.

"She didn't say anything," I back her up.

"Oi, _you_, my name's not 'Chav,' you little bitch. It's Kelly. I'm sick o' all yous judgin' me," she says to me angrily.

"I never called you a chav," I say in surprise. I feel a bit guilty for her last comment, though. It's clear that she's been judged constantly, and we've just been two people to add to the lot. But these more sentimental thoughts don't stop me from giving her one last confused glare before leaving. I'd had enough of this weirdness.

As I'm about to reach the hallway, Curly comes out of nowhere, and stops me with his arm.

"Get your hands off me!" I hiss, startled by the sudden contact.

"Now, now, no need to get your knickers in a twist," he says with a cocky smirk. It's clear from the look in his eyes that he loves pushing people's buttons, and, as it turns out, I appear to be his preferred target at the moment.

"What do you want?" I ask, trying to sound as disinterested as possible.

"I just wanted to ask your name, love. Or, y'know, I can just call you sugartits if you've got nothing else for me to call ya."

"Is that a joke?" I say viciously, looking at him in disbelief. I can feel anger bubbling in my stomach, but I try desperately to keep my temper in check.

He takes a couple of steps back and raises his hands in surrender. "Jus' wonderin'," he says with less attitude.

"Marnie," I state bluntly, trying to push past him.

"Marnie," he repeats, tasting it. "Name's Nathan," he says, throwing his hand out for me to shake. I ignore it and brush shoulders with him as I leave.

"See ya tomorrow, then!" he waves, tone cheerful as ever.

I walk through the doors, shaking my head. This was going to be a long 200 hours, to say the least.

When I get home to my dingy flat, I throw my stuff down and immediately take out a bottle of cheap wine. I live alone, so there's no need to look sophisticated; I drink it straight from the bottle. I flip on the T.V. but don't really watch it, a habit that I've recently developed. I think about phoning my mates and going out, but I decide against it. Doing this volunteering shit with a hangover tomorrow doesn't sound appealing.

At around one I change into my pink striped pajamas and head off to bed. I say bed, but really it's just a lumpy mattress laid down on the floor with a couple of blankets on it. In case you couldn't already tell, I'm broke as fuck. I've been looking for a job, but things aren't exactly going well. I've just recently been kicked out of my house. My mum gave me a bit of money before I left – just enough to pay the rent for this piece of shit flat. There are screams at night and strange noises outside, but things have been more or less all right. I'm alive, at least, and I suppose it's better than being homeless.

The next morning, I wake up to the horribly obnoxious beeping of my alarm clock. I roll out of bed and stumble into the bathroom with my eyes half closed. After hopping in the shower, I dry myself off and attempt to comb out my mane of nearly waist-length dark brown hair. My success is limited. I then proceed to start work on my makeup. Before I know it, it's time to head back to that horrid community center.

I arrive to see "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU" spray-painted onto the wall.

"Lovely," I mutter to myself darkly. However, something about it seems vaguely humorous. Nathan's rambling on about some "hidden meaning" or something, but I think it's pretty clear that some teenaged assholes are trying to have a laugh at us.

Before we enter the building to get changed, the probation worker lines us up and demands all of our mobiles thanks to the impertinence of Slut, who had been fiddling away incessantly with hers. Now, I keep referring to her as "Slut." You might find this a bit cruel, given the fact that I don't actually know her. And you would be correct – I _don't _actually know her. She could be perfectly nice, for all I know. But what _is_ evident – at least in my mind – is that she'd love the nickname. Because she is a slut, and she knows it. And she owns it. And she loves it. So I don't feel guilty, not really. I don't feel guilty like I had when I referred to "Kelly" as "Chav."

The six of us go into the locker room and it suddenly hits me that there used to be someone else in the group: the kid with the cap worn to the side.

I'm torn from my thoughts abruptly when Nathan appears out of thin air and slaps my ass. Before I can adequately express how livid I am, he says, "Hiya there," he pauses, and I know he is searching for my name. His eyes scrunch shut in thought. "Ma-Marisa? No, that's not it… Mary?"

I look at him with a steely expression, clearly not amused. "Marnie," I grit out. I then deliver a sharp slap to his right cheek, and the sound rings loudly as it bounces off the tiled walls.

"Jesus Christ!" he exclaims, cradling his face. The others laugh at his misfortune and I have a feeling I've just won the approval of at least a few of them.

Later, as we're working on the wall, Kelly starts up an odd conversation. "Ya know," she started, "after the storm, did any of yous lot feel dead weird?"

"Yeah!" Nathan says boisterously, getting everyone to turn his or her head towards him. He lives for this stuff, to be the center of attention. "I had a strange tingling sensation in my anus!" And then it's gone; everyone turns away and I roll my eyes in irritation.

"Can you just shut up?" I say to him.

"No, haven't you noticed? I have diarrhea of the mouth. Or word vomit. Either or."

I let an exasperated sigh cross my lips before getting back to work.

"Did ya feel weird?" I hear Kelly ask Creep.

"What, you don't want to hear about my anus?" says Nathan. I smack him in the ribs and he falls back exaggeratedly. "What's with all the hitting?" he demands indignantly, flailing his arms.

There was a painful exchange between Nathan and Creep (who I was now starting to feel more sympathetic towards) in which Creep attempted to tell his story but was discouraged by Nathan's jackassery.

When it comes time for our break, Kelly wanders off and the rest of us go into the rec room. The boys play foosball and Slut goes into the locker room, presumably to do a makeup touch up.

I overhear Nathan talking about us: "So, which one do you want?"

"What are you on about now?" the athlete asks, completely lost.

"The girls, of course," says Nathan, "There are three and three – do the maths because it's your lucky day, gentlemen. We each get one."

"There used to be four guys…" says Creep. Thank God I wasn't the only one who'd noticed…

"I'm talking about getting laid!" Nathan bursts out. "So, how are we gonna do this? 'cause the one with the frizzy hair, I don't see me and her getting it on."

"Why, because she's beautiful?" laughs Athlete.

"No, because she looks like she'd be super high maintenance, like you'd have to treat her really well," he says, clearly repulsed by the idea.

I want to chime in, but I don't because I'd rather hear what he has to say about me first.

"I'm thinking I'll have the brunette there for myself," he says, pointing his thumb over his shoulder in my direction. "She might have a hell of a mouth on her and a bit of a hot streak, but I think I can handle it. Plus, hate sex is always the best… Loads of _passion_ in a girl like her." He shoots one more glance in my direction, completely unaware that I can hear them, before continuing, "Yeah, I'll have that one. And _you_," he says to Creep, "you can have the other one…"

"Kelly?" he offers.

"Yeah, Kelly. She's all yours, mate. She's maybe not the prettiest one, but couple of Bacardi Breezers and she'll be good to go!"

"And what about the girls," says Athlete, "Do they have any say in this?"

"Obviously not," I finally interject, "Otherwise this conversation wouldn't even be happening."

"Again with the mouth!" I hear Nathan curse under his breath.

"Oh I'm sorry," I say with mock innocence, walking over to stand toe to toe with him, "I thought you said you liked a girl who could give it as well as she could take it." I tried to sound seductive and, from the looks of things, I succeeded. Nathan's jaw has dropped and he's staring at me lustfully, while the others look amused. They know I'm only toying with him, thank God.

"Oh baby, that's exactly what I said, isn't it?" he says, lowering his face so that our noses are almost touching. I back away abruptly.

"I'm telling you," he continues somewhat disappointedly, "A group of young people, doing mindless shit all day? It's gonna happen! It always does – it's biology. Or physics. One of those. Anyway, so do we have a deal?" He spits into his palm as if he were a nursery schooler and holds it out for Athlete to shake. He does nothing but look at him in disgust before walking away.

I glare at him with all the intensity I can muster, but he only shrugs it off and winks at me. I can't believe the audacity of him – I've never met such an unbelievable git.

"We'll talk about this later, love," he says, following the rest of the group to where Slut is sitting.

It's here in this little circle of conversation that I learn everyone's proper name. Slut is really Alisha, Athlete is Curtis, and Creep is Simon. Nathan violently beating the vending machine interrupts the conversation. There's a telltale dropping noise, and it becomes clear that his method is annoying albeit effective.

Curtis admits that he was done for possession of cocaine, and I can't say I'm too surprised. The athletes at his level – they're intense. Their sport takes over their entire life. They all crack (no pun intended) sooner or later. I can't help but feel bad for him as Nathan mocks his situation. Curtis grabs him by the lapels of his jumpsuit and screams angrily, "Shut the fuck up! You know nothing! All I ever did was train!"

After this outburst has died down, the attention turns to me.

"What about you, sweetheart," says Nathan once he's recovered from Curtis' brutal shake down, "what're you done for?"

"Kidnapping," I state bluntly, "And stealing a car."

They all look shocked. _It's always the quiet ones..._ I muse.

"Bullshit, that'll get you jail time," Alisha says finally.

I shake my head. "It's complicated. I stole my stepdad's car and put my baby brother in the back after he started throwing bottles around the house. I disappeared for like three days and when the police found me they let me off with community service 'cause they'd gotten a bunch of domestic complaints about my dad."

"That's fucked up," she says.

"You're telling me…" I mutter. "I shouldn't fucking be here."

"Cry me a river, babe!" Nathan mocks. I glare at him, but the memory of what happened is still too bitter to recount without feeling shitty afterwards. He then turns to Alisha, "And you, sweetcheeks? What are you done for?"

Alisha then proceeds to tell the story of her arrest, giving her water bottle a blowjob as she'd apparently done with the breathalyzer test. At the end of it, I'm disgusted (to say the least), while simultaneously confident that my earlier assessment of her character is correct.

The males, on the other hand, have a completely different reaction. They all look as if they want to jump her bones on the spot. I ignore the vague feeling of jealousy. I don't want to give her the satisfaction of thinking she's more attractive than me. I've known girls like her before, girls from school. They revel in the fact that all the guys love them and all the girls hate them. _Plus_, says an annoying voice in my head, _Nathan's already said that he wants me out of everyone_… FUCK. What am I thinking. I'm mad. Absolutely mad.

Suddenly, the door bursts open and Kelly comes running in with a terrified look on her face. She trips and screams, " 'e's gonna kill os!"

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><p><strong>Author's note! I hope you all liked it! I know that re-hashing the entire first episode is really cumbersome, so I tried to gloss over a lot of the dialogue to keep it kinda short. I know you guys have seen the episode, you don't really need me to replay it for you, do you? I just thought it might get boring. Anyway, I'd love to know what you think! Please review!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Thanks so much who to those of you who have reviewed/subscribed! I hope you all like this chapter :-)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

"Nice entrance," says Nathan, clapping from the comfort of an unnecessary wheelchair, "Very dramatic."

"What's the matter?" I ask.

"The probation worker's gone mental," she says, trying to catch her breath. " 'e's just tried to attack me! Somefin' really weird is 'appenin'. I'm 'earing these voices in me 'ead – it's like I can 'ear wot people are finking!"

"Have you been sniffing glue?" Alisha demands in disbelief.

"_Seriously_!" says Kelly. "The storm – the lightnin'! It's done somefin' to os!"

"Okay," Nathan says, "If you can hear our thoughts, what am I thinking now?"

"You fink it's bullshit!" she exclaims angrily.

"Of _course_ I think it's bullshit!" he retorts, "You don't need to be a _mind reader_ to know that!"

It's clear that Kelly is extremely distraught, and I put my hand on her arm in an attempt to calm her down. In a flash, there is a bright explosion of light behind my eyes and I see things from her perspective – I'm running from the probation worker. His eyes have gone ice blue and he has a deranged look on his face as he chases me. It's blurry and dreamy like a memory, but something about it is extremely realistic. I'm living it – I'm _feeling _it. I'm feeling what she's feeling – the terror, the fear, the urgent need to make everyone believe me. It's like I understand perfectly how she feels.

I let go abruptly, causing everyone to stare at me in confusion.

"Wot's the matter wit' you?" Kelly demands.

"She's telling the truth," I choke out.

"Oh no, not you too!" Nathan exclaims. "Why do all the hot ones have to be crazies?"

"I saw it," I continue, ignoring him, "I saw the whole thing. It's like I was you," I say to Kelly.

Curtis looks at us both in agitation and tries to cut to the point, "What do you mean he attacked you?" he asks.

"This does sound like complete shit," Alisha pipes in with her arms crossed.

" 'e's out there and 'e chased me!" she says.

"Something's happened to me, too," Simon interjects.

"Did you pop your cherry? Aw, we're all very happy for you!" Nathan mocks.

"Earlier on, when we were in the locker room… I was invisible," the boy continues meekly.

We all look at him like he's completely bonkers, which he probably is.

"I turned invisible," he repeats more firmly.

"So," Curtis says, trying to get everything straight, "She's psychic, she can see people's memories, and you can turn invisible? That seems likely." It's not that I can see people's memories, exactly, but I don't bother correcting him.

"Yeah, did anyone witness this miraculous disappearance?" Nathan inquires sarcastically.

"You were all there," answers Simon.

"Erm, I think we would have noticed you vanishing into thin air," Alisha snaps impatiently.

"You didn't," Simon insists, "You were standing right there. You couldn't see me."

Nathan dares him to do it again, and Simon looks uncomfortable, as if he's not sure if he can.

"Oh my God, he's disappeared!" Nathan exclaims from his wheelchair as Simon is quite clearly standing in front of him. He pretends to look past him, before throwing a soda bottle at his forehead. This causes Simon to realize – much to his chagrin – that he'd been made fun of once again.

"You lot are hilarious, really," says Nathan, wheeling towards the door. "Keep taking that medication."

"Don't go out there!" Kelly says, stopping him, " 'e'll kill you!"

"Of course he will, 'cause he's such a badass," he retorts facetiously.

"Don't!" I insist.

"They're telling the truth!" Curtis shouts out of nowhere. After only a second, he's sweaty and struggling to catch his breath.

"And you know this _how_?" Nathan asks, clearly unconvinced. "I suppose you're psychic now, too!"

"All this," he pants, "It's already happened once. I opened the door – the probation worker – he killed you," he says to Kelly. "You were right there. You were dead. Everything froze. You were all just standing there. Time went backwards!"

"You're saying that you turned back time?" I demand.

"This just gets better by the second!" Nathan adds, standing from the wheelchair and walking towards the door.

"Everything happened again. Exactly the same."

I see Nathan's hand on the latch and I scream, "Don't!"

He only opens it a crack, and, after a second, he slams it shut and locks it with a panicked look in his dark green eyes.

"They're right, the probation worker's gone mental!" he confirms.

The worker must have seen him, because suddenly he begins banging on the window in an attempt to gain entrance.

Nathan quickly scrambles away from the door and towards the rest of us, as we unwittingly formed a tight group out of fear. As his fists pound against the glass, I can't help but have the horrible idea that he'll be able to break in. I subconsciously inch closer to Nathan, who is already the one closest to me to begin with. There's another particularly loud knock and he grabs my arm like a girl. I give him a disapproving look, but am too petrified to pull away.

Alisha has some crazy idea that he's on crystal meth, but I guess I can't blame her for not completely grasping the situation. She didn't see the rage in his eyes.

"We should call the police," I suggest.

"He took our phones," Simon reminds us. Shit. We really are fucked.

After a few moments, someone says, "It's stopped." And true enough, the noise has ceased.

"You dickhead!" Alisha says to Kelly, "Why'd you come back here? You should have gone for help!"

"She was trying to warn us!" I defended.

"Yeah, I coulda left ya! What do you know, bitch?" Kelly snarls.

"Shut up, you chav," is Alisha's response.

"Do ye know that if ye call me chav one more time, I'll kick ya so 'ard in the cunt, your mum'll feel it!"

"Her mum'll feel it?" Nathan quips, adding his two cents, "How does that work?"

"Please just leave it," I ask earnestly. I'm stressed enough as it is, and his needless comments aren't doing anything to help the situation. Thankfully, he's the only one who actually hears me, and, to my surprise, he gives me the first serious look I've seen out of him and shuts his trap. It's then that I realize he's maybe not completely full of hot air.

"I'm getting out of here," Alisha finally announces, heading towards the back door.

"Yeah, out the back way!" Nathan quickly agrees.

I follow close behind, as does everyone else. We run down the hallway like the doors at the end are our salvation – which, actually, they are. Suddenly, Nathan slips abruptly. He grabs hold of the nearest thing – which happens to be me – to steady himself, but ends up falling nevertheless and bringing me down with him.

We land hard on the ground in a pool of liquid. We both look down, expecting water. But it's not. It's not water at all. Whatever we're sitting in is the unmistakable color and texture of...

"It's blood," I manage numbly, my voice barely a whisper. It's everywhere. It's all over me. It's on my hands and face and clothes. I feel light-headed, as if I might be sick.

"Oh, fuck!" Nathan shrieks. "Jesus Christ!" He begins to gag and stands at lightning speed, wiping his hands off on his jumpsuit and hysterically trying to get it off every inch of his skin.

Curtis helps me up. "You all right?" he asks in concern.

I lie and say I'm fine.

"You're shaking," he states. It isn't until he says it that I realize it's the truth. The others look at me sympathetically.

"Come 'ere," Kelly says in a vaguely maternal tone. I shuffle over to her and she rubs my upper arms comfortingly. I notice she's careful not to get any of the blood on her, and I don't blame her. "You're all right," she says, "You're fine."

Curtis slowly steps towards the locker where the blood is originating. He gathers the courage to open the locker, and out pops the seventh member of our group – the gangster/poser boy from earlier. Alisha screams loudly. He'd been horribly mutilated and was absolutely covered in his own blood.

"I did wonder what happened to him…" Nathan says with a pained wince. It seems as if he's gotten over the trauma of being covered in someone else's blood.

"He's going to kill us, too," I whimper.

Nathan sends me a mildly compassionate sidelong glance. "Turn back time," he tells Curtis, "Stop all this from happening!"

"Are you serious?" he replies angrily, "I don't know how it works!"

"Oh, well, that's great! That's really useful!" he spits sarcastically. I can tell from his voice that he too is beginning to panic.

Curtis glares at him, but says to Alisha, "Come on, don't look at him." As he grips her arm to lead her away from the sight, something very strange happens. When his hand touches the skin on her wrist, his grip tightens immediately and his pupils dilate.

"I've got to have sex with you right now!" he says to her, "You're so beautiful!"

Alisha wriggles to get free, but to no avail.

"Let's do it now, raw!" he continues. He starts to unbutton his jumpsuit and Alisha's finally had enough. She forcefully pushes him away and screams, "Get off me, you freak!"

She brings her hand back to slap him, but he catches her wrist before she does. The same thing happens. "You're so hot. I'm gonna bone you. I'm gonna shag you senseless."

Again, she is able to pull away. Her expression holds a mixture of horror and revulsion.

"What'd I do?" he asks in confusion.

"Uh, you said you was gonna shag 'er," Kelly states mater-of-factly.

"And you were getting your chap out!" Nathan adds. I elbow him in the side. "_What_," he hisses, "He _was_!"

"Shut up!" Curtis says, ashamed.

Simon looked as if he knew what was happening. "It was when you were touching her…" he states.

Alisha looks at her palms in horror and tests this theory but putting her fingers on Simon's neck. He has the same reaction as Curtis, and the veins in his neck bulge out grotesquely.

"I'm so hard for you!" he says, "I want to rip your clothes off and piss on your tits!"

"No!" she yells, backing away. "What's happening to me?" she demands in despair.

"You sick bastard," Nathan says to Simon.

Before anyone can say anything else, the glass behind us shatters due to the probation worker's efforts. He has a rusty pipe in his hand as he tumbles to the floor in a frenzy of broken glass. As everyone mindlessly attempts to scamper away, he begins to rise from the floor. Thinking quickly, Kelly grabs a paint can and slams it into his head, sending him back to the ground.

"What did you do?" Nathan pants.

"She saved our lives!" I answer.

"Is he dead?"

"Well, I'm no doctor, but… You see the way the back of his head is caved like that?"

As if on cue, the probation worker opens his eyes again and screams at Kelly. She, too, screams, and stomps his head repeatedly until it is quite obvious that he is dead as a doornail.

"That will do it," Nathan says in disgust.

I feel my stomach churn and I think I might vomit. The smell of blood is everywhere. I grip his arm tightly to steady myself and he looks surprised. I can't even begin to comprehend the situation. Not only have we almost just died, but we've just murdered our probation worker. Lovely. Fantastic. As if the situation could possibly get any worse. The others, while they are clearly distraught, do not seem to be as affected as I am. I guess I'm just not cut out for this sort of thing. I'm not a violent person by any means, and this was the first time I'd ever even seen a dead body – not just a _mutilated _dead body, but any type of dead body in general... Barring the kid in the locker, of course.

"We should call the police," someone says, "It was self defense!"

I can't help but agree, as does Alisha. "Yeah," she says, "They'll do some CSI shit and figure it all out."

"They won' believe os!" Kelly insists.

"We'll just tell them the truth," says Curtis, "We'll stick to our story."

"And wot's our story? 'e can turn invisible n' you can turn back time? It doesn't matter wot we tell them, they'll say we're lyin'! They'll say we killed 'em both! No one's gonna believe ya, not anymore!"

"She's right," Nathan agrees, "Who's going to believe six criminals?"

"If there's no body, there's no crime," says Simon. "We should bury them under the flyover."

I look at him in disbelief. "Yeah, and how would you recommend we do that? It's broad daylight – someone will see us!"

"No, no, no," Nathan chants, "We just give 'em a quick little –" he imitates a cleaning motion "We put 'em in those wheelchairs and we wheel 'em up there, and if anyone sees us, we're just some young offenders taking a couple of specials for a walk in the sunshine!"

I'm so shocked that I don't even know how to respond.

"He's right, it's the only option," Simon agrees. Since when are these two on the same page?

Before I know it, we're wheeling the bodies to the flyover. _How did this happen_, I think, _I just wanted to get this stupid community service over with, and I become an accomplice to a murder on the second day! How the fuck does this even happen? How is this real! And we all have powers? You've got to be bloody kidding me! I didn't sign up for this X-Men shit! I just want to pick up litter, not bury a couple of bodies!_

"We're all going to hell," I mutter once the boys start digging ditches.

"Probably," Nathan chirps in agreement. "And I'm pretty sure this breaches the terms of my ASBO." He looks over his shoulder at me and asks as an afterthought, "You're not one of those Jesus freaks, are you?" He crinkles his nose in distaste, as if the notion is positively repulsive. It's funny, I think, that it seems to disgust him more than burying a blood-soaked corpse.

"No, I'm not," I answer, a smirk playing at my lips.

"Good." He relaxes considerably as he drives his shovel further into the dirt. "So," he continues pompously, "got any plans for tonight."

My mouth is agape in shock, but, before I can formulate a response, Alisha says, "Are you really trying to chat a girl up while digging a grave?" Everyone but him laughs at this remark.

"Now's as good a time as any," he defends. "In case you haven't noticed, I never stop pulling women. It's one of the many curses of being so ridiculously attractive..."

"Uh huh," I comment dryly, completely unconvinced. Despite the fact that I do indeed find him attractive in the physical sense, I can't help but doubt that he gets many girls; his personality is too abrasive, and I'm sure that few people can even tolerate him, let alone _date_ him.

"We don't tell anyone about this, yeah?" Kelly instructs after a second. "About the storm or what it did to us or anything."

"I don't _want_ anyone to know," Alisha replies, "I cannot be a freak."

Curtis is suspiciously silent, and everyone looks at him expectantly. "There's no going back now, man," Nathan prods, "You're just as screwed as the rest of us. In fact, you're black _and_ famous, which probably makes you _more _screwed."

Finally, Curtis speaks up. "I shouldn't even be here," he surrenders, echoing his earlier words.

There are another few moments of silence, before Nathan once again succumbs to the ever-present urge to speak. "Wait a second," he says, "Each of you has some sort of power. _He_," he continues frantically, pointing to Simon, "can do something, and _I_ can't? That's not right! I mean, look at him! How does that make any sense?"

"Maybe you just haven't found out what you can do yet," I suggest.

"Yeah," he replies, "That's gotta be it. I'm sure I have something good, something from the A-list.

Eventually, we finish the macabre deed and head back towards the locker room at the community center. I leave without saying much else, and instead focus my attention on getting over the living nightmare I had just experienced.

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><p><strong>Author's note: Please review!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed/favorited/subscribed! I really means a lot to me. I'd love to get some more reviews, though! If you're enjoying it so far (or not), I'd love to hear your opinion. I hope you all like this chapter :-)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

A few more days into our community service, we're forced to help out at some pointless gathering of the elderly to make them feel wanted and such. Nathan has been in a particularly foul mood since yesterday, when we saw his naked step-dad sleeping as we were picking up litter. I contemplate asking him if he's all right, but soon decide that I don't really care enough to ask. As we're in the locker room, putting our belongings away, I realize that this is the first time that we don't have to wear our orange jumpsuits – I guess they don't want us to scare the old folks, not that I'd consider myself particularly scary in any sense of the word. I suppose it's best not to make it obvious that we're criminals, though. I'm dressed fairly nicely for the occasion, donning a purple patterned summer dress and a pair of silver gladiator sandals – remnants from when I wasn't estranged from my mother.

As I'm going to leave, I accidentally brush Nathan's shoulder. Suddenly, what had happened with Kelly happens again; there's a burst of light, and I see a middle-aged woman with dark hair and an Irish accent yelling at me, telling me I have to leave. I feel… betrayed. Hurt. Angry. I can do nothing but stare at Nathan in shock.

"What's _your_ problem?" he asks skeptically.

"I –I… It happened again."

"_What_ happened again?" he replies with a roll of his eyes.

"The power thing."

He narrows his eyes skeptically. "What did you see?" He seems almost nervous.

"A woman. Yelling." I have my suspicions regarding who this 'woman' might be, but I don't voice them.

He winces and bares his teeth dramatically. "You _cannot_ tell anyone!" he commands in a hushed whisper. "If people find out that I'm a homeless – "

"You're homeless?" I interrupt.

He makes the same frustrated expression as before. "In a manner of speaking," he says finally, "You can't tell anyone, do you hear me?" he demands urgently.

"Alright, alright, I won't tell anyone," I assure him. It's obvious that this is an event that has truly affected him and is weighing heavily on his mind, so I didn't interject any snide comments. "Who was the woman I saw?" I ask after a moment.

He sizes me up, deciding whether or not he wants to tell me. I can't help but get the feeling that this is becoming much too personal for his liking, but he answers me nevertheless. "My mum," he says bluntly.

There are another several seconds of silence during which we stare at each other awkwardly. Finally, I say, "I'm sorry…"

"Don't," he cuts me off. "Let's not get all mushy now, ey? There's no need." With that, leaves the room and strolls ahead of me. It's evident that he's somewhat embarrassed and upset that he's had to relive the experience.

Our new probation worker, a plain-looking woman aptly named Sally, lines us up and tells us to entertain the old prunes who have now more or less taken over the community center. Several of the senior citizens are swaying to music in a rather pathetic fashion, and quickly an old man with inch-thick glasses asks me to dance. I comply, only to see Alisha skulking off towards the kitchen, Kelly speaking with another old man, and Nathan wheeling an old woman down the hallway at an alarming speed. A beautiful blonde girl saunters past him, causing him to lose his grip on the wheelchair. As the woman barrels helplessly down the stairs, they begin talking, and I feel the blood rush to my head and a surge jealousy. She's pretty. _Very_ pretty. Prettier than I am – I mean, she's _blonde_, for god's sake. How can I compare with that? I can't.

"You all right there, love?" the old man asks me. He's nearly a head shorter than I am.

"Of course! I'm fine," I say, smiling sweetly. _He_ seems perfectly content. I wish I knew what he was feeling, so I wouldn't have to cope with this horrible feeling of envy.

As soon as this thought crosses my mind, I absorb his emotions, like I'd done with Kelly and Nathan. Strangely, I don't see anything this time. But I feel much better – it only lasts for a couple of seconds, though, then I'm back to normal. The experiment is helpful in that it proves that this sort of emotional exchange is voluntary, unlike Alisha's power apparently is.

Nathan ignores me for the rest of the day. In fact, he doesn't just ignore me – he actively avoids me. I suspect it's because I've found out about his rather unfortunate circumstances, but I don't understand why he's so ashamed of it. He didn't exactly seem like the type to care much about appearing pulled-together. As we're all in the locker room, getting ready to leave, I whisper to him, "You know, the same thing happened to me."

He looks at the others, making sure that they're not listening; they're not. "What do you mean?" he asks in response.

"My mum kicked me out, too," I clarify quietly. I hope that perhaps by sharing something about myself he'll be less freaked out that I know his secret.

He doesn't say anything.

"I'm living in a gross flat," I continue, "It's awful."

He pauses for a few moments, before replying, "At least you've got _somewhere_…"

"Where are you staying?" I can't help the faint trace of concern that infiltrates my tone, and I mentally curse myself for it.

"Here," he states simply.

"In the community center?" I ask in disbelief.

"Yeah. It's really not that bad."

I bite my lip, knowing I'm going to regret my next words. "You know," I say, "If you ever want a cooked meal or something… I mean, you could come with me…" I'm greatly thankful for the fact that we're whispering, because, if the others heard us, they would never let us live it down.

He raises his thick eyebrows in genuine surprise, before narrowing his eyes. "Are you asking me to go back to yours so we can shag?" he questions loudly, causing everyone to look in our direction.

I cover my face with my hands in embarrassment. "_No_!" I insist.

"'cause it sure sounds like it, love!" he continues with a cocky grin.

"Just forget I mentioned it," I snap, slamming my locker shut and leaving the room as the others laugh. That was the last time Nathan Young was ever going to get any kindness from me, that's for sure… I try to be nice, and it's thrown back in my face. I've learned my lesson.

_(The next day…)_

The next day, Alisha arrives at the community center wearing a tiny pink leopard-print dress, clearly still clad in last night's clubbing outfit. I'm sitting beside Nathan on a bench outside the building, sharing a blunt. Unsurprisingly, I'm able to put my anger towards him aside for a bit of spliff. True enough, it's probably not the best idea to be getting high outside of where we're supposed to be doing community service, but I can't be bothered.

"_She_ looks like she had a good night," I comment giddily as Alisha walks past.

"She's not the only one," he quips back.

"Do tell," I say, raising my eyebrows and taking a drag of the joint.

"D'ya know that girl, the hot one with the short blonde hair? Ruth or somethin'," he starts, "Well, let's just say she and I had a little rendez-vous here last night…"

"You did? What do you mean?"

"Well, she came back to the community center after hours because she forgot something, and we ended up raiding the liquor cabinet in the kitchen..."

"The kitchen has a liquor cabinet?"

"Apparently."

"So, did you two… you know…?" I try to sound as disinterested as possible, and I think I succeed.

"Did we fuck?" he rephrases indelicately.

"Well, yeah."

"Nah, but I could've! We were interrupted at a peak snogging opportunity by my mum's – the guy who lives with my mum."

"Was he naked again?" I joke.

"Yes!" he exclaims passionately, "That's why we didn't shag! I had to follow him and collect evidence to show my mum. I swear to god, I've got that psycho nudist bastard now! I'm gonna show my mum the photo I took later today and then he'll be out and I'll be in, and everything will be back to the way it should be."

"Sounds like a plan," I drawl. We both stand and Nathan stamps the blunt out on the pavement with the sole of his shoe.

We then enter the community center, and I change into my uniform beside Alisha. I can't help but give her a knowing smirk as she steps out of her ridiculous dress and heels – I've definitely been there before. We share this moment of understanding and I can't help but think that maybe she's not so bad after all.

Over the course of the day – which, in itself, is pretty uneventful – I notice a couple of things. First, it seems that there's some sort of flirtatious relationship going on between Curtis and Alisha, and I can't help but think back to what Nathan had said about all of us pairing up eventually. Despite the fact that he'd phrased the idea in the worst way possible, he had a point. From my prior experience, it seems that, whenever there are small groups of mixed genders, at least some coupling up is inevitable.

And neither Curtis nor Simon is exactly my type. Not that Nathan is, really, but I can't help but find him physically attractive. Which is incredibly annoying. I have odd taste in guys, I know, but something about him is very aesthetically appealing to me.

But he had Ruth, didn't he? I'm out of the picture. It's for the best, I know it is, but it still stings a bit. I'm not his most alluring prospect. She is.

You may think that I have incredibly low self-esteem for letting myself think this way, but this is the sort of thing that goes through the minds of most girls my age, isn't it? I can't be _that_ unusual. Life is a competition. Nature has conditioned people to think this way, so why be ashamed of it? If Ruth and I were competing, I would lose. It's as simple as that. I mean, our faces were comparable, true enough, but guys didn't care about that. In fact, my face might even be a tad prettier, and we have similar body structures. But I'm not blonde, and she has bigger breasts. Therefore, I lose.

Anyway, I digress. The second thing I noticed over the course of the day was that Simon was videotaping us. More specifically, he videotaped Nathan saying we'd killed our probation officer – not exactly the best thing to have on tape, to put it lightly. I want to tell someone, but everyone bolts out of the community center at the end of the day before I get the chance. I guess they all somewhere else to be. In any case, I doubt Simon will show the clip to anyone, given the fact that it will expose him as well as us. We're all in this together; if one of us is caught, we're all screwed. He probably just taped it for some bizarre, creepy reason – for his own personal enjoyment. The idea is incredibly foreign to me, but I suppose it's not unrealistic to believe that there are people out there who get off on that sort of thing. I don't worry about it too much, and am the last to head home.

_(The next day…)_

Soon, we're back at the community center for another day of amusing the elderly. I'm dressed better than I was the day before; I was blessed with the ability to put clothes together in such a way that I can create the allusion of looking more attractive than I actually am. A good push-up bra and the right top can do wonders. Not that I'm dressing for anyone in particular, of course, (hint: I am) but it's always nice to look your best.

Anyway, when I arrive at the main room of the community center, James Blunt is playing and everyone seems to be having a surprisingly good time. Everyone _except_ Nathan, that is. The curly-haired Irishman is sulking in a chair, watching everyone dance with a scowl plastered across his features. A particularly elderly woman with a walker begins to shuffle over to him with a love-struck smile on her face. She clearly intends to ask him to dance. Before she reaches him, however, a look of utter disgust overtakes his scowl and he dashes out of the room, leaving the poor woman heartbroken. I can't help but furrow my brow in confusion; that was really cold, even for him. I follow him as he rushes out of the building, towards the flyover.

He takes out a cigarette, his hands shaking. There's something wrong. There _has _to be something wrong – I've never seen him behave like this. Granted, I haven't know him for more than a week… But still, he seems completely out of sorts.

"Hey," I call, alerting him to my presence. "You all right?"

He jumps slightly at the sound and snaps his head to look at me. "Yeah, I'm fine," he answers a little too quickly. He's sitting against the wall, his legs bent towards his chest. He looks vexed.

"Are you sure? You practically ran out of there." I slowly approach the area where he's sitting and crouch on the ground across from him, sitting Indian-style.

"I will not be in a room where that song is playing. I have to draw the line somewhere," he states in an offbeat attempt to behave like his usual, obnoxious self. I know he's not telling me the truth. Luckily, I have a way to bypass his stubbornness.

"You can tell me," I say, gently touching his knee. In that moment, I'm bombarded by images and emotions. It's unlike anything I've experienced before. First, I see the same woman from before – his mum – slap me. I feel the sting on my cheek and the sadness in my heart. Then, I see the blonde girl – _Ruth_. And next, all of a sudden, she's naked. We're fucking. Well, _he's _fucking her. But I see it from his perspective, which is _extremely _disturbing and probably something that I will never get over. In a flash of lightning, she turns… _old_ before my very eyes. _That's _certainly something I wasn't expecting. She's wrinkly and overweight and _ancient_! I feel horror, revulsion, and panic, all at the same time. These particular emotions are so strong that I actually have to break the connection.

He's able to deduce what's happened from the look on my face, and anger floods his features. "You can't just fucking do that!" he shouts, standing abruptly.

"I can't help it!" I lie, standing to match him. "It just happens!"

"Don't fucking give me that bullshit!" he yells. "You can bloody well control it! That's an invasion of privacy! You can't just go around doing that to people!"

"I'm sorry!" I apologize sincerely.

Suddenly, everyone else comes into view, clad in jumpsuits.

"Everything all right here?" Curtis asks gravely, eyeing Nathan suspiciously.

"Fine. Everything's just peachy," he replies bitterly.

"Some old woman was lookin' for you," Kelly tells Nathan. _Oh_, I think,_ so _that_ was who the old woman was. _That's_ why he rushed out._

"Wot are you talkin' about?" she asks me, listening to my thoughts. Her jaw drops abruptly as she turns to look at Nathan. "You shagged 'er?" she demands in disbelief.

The others stare at him in utter shock.

"Yeah, yeah, nice one! I gave her a right good seeing to," he jokes pathetically. I bite my lip and wince at the horror of the situation. I can't help but feel sorry for the poor kid.

Everyone looks disgusted, including Nathan. "You totally screwed her," Alisha states. The sounds coming out of the other three are a combination of laughs and gags.

"No!" Nathan protests desperately.

"You nailed that old woman?" says Curtis. "That is _wrong_!"

"Did you enjoy it?" Simon asks with perfect comedic timing. I can't help but chuckle at this. Finally, he gets to torment Nathan about something.

"Shut up, you little freak!" Nathan shouts lividly.

"I think he enjoyed it," Simon says with a mischievous smirk.

"Are you into that?" Curtis demands in repulsion.

"_No_," Nathan whines, pleading for them to understand. "She didn't look like that when we started, okay? Do you remember that bird Ruth, from Tuesday? Beautiful, yeah? That wrinkly old bint – that's her! It was the storm, it made her young again."

No one really looks convinced, so I swallow my amusement and back him up. "He's telling the truth," I say.

They now look at me in surprise.

"How do _you_ know?" Alisha demands.

"I saw it," I say, disgust evident in my tone. "Believe me, it was traumatizing. Perhaps even more so than that whole debacle with the probation worker."

"Please," she then says to Nathan, "_please_ tell me you didn't –" she makes an obscene motion with her tongue, and the look on Nathan's face says it all. I bite back the urge to retch. Everyone bursts into laughter, and even he allows a tiny, broken smirk. He then proceeds to flip us all off and walk away, towards the bridge.

"Nathan," I call carefully, chasing after him, "Nathan, wait."

"I didn't mean to tell 'em," Kelly tries from afar.

He glares at her and shouts, "Stay out of my head! And _you_," he says directing his resentment towards me, "stop doing that _thing_ you do! I've had quite enough of it!"

"Please, I didn't mean to do it," I say.

"The hell you didn't," he snaps.

"Fine," I say, now equally pissed-off, "Do what you want, granny-fucker." With that, I then turn away from him and storm back towards the others.

_(Later…)_

That night, I go back to the community center after hours. It's Friday, and I feel like getting out of my flat. I don't kid myself – I don't even internally deny that I'm going to see Nathan. I feel bad about what happened earlier, and I couldn't leave it with me calling him a granny-fucker. He was really torn up about the whole thing; I'd felt it first hand. It wasn't just the Ruth fiasco, but also the issue with his mum. I know it's a tremendously stupid thing to do, that I have no business going to visit him, but I go through with it anyway.

It doesn't dawn on me until I get there that I have no way of getting inside.

"Nathan!" I yell, banging on the glass of the front doors.

After a minute or two, he appears, looking more surprised than I'd have though possible.

He opens the door for me and says, "What, did you forget something?"

"No…"

"Then why are you here?" he questions.

"I – uh – I wanted to see if you were okay."

His eyebrows shoot up. "Are you serious?" There as hint of bitterness in his tone, as if he thinks I'm mocking him.

"Yeah," I say, "You seemed pretty upset. Can I come in or what?"

"Uh – yeah, sure," he stammers. This is the first time I see his cocky demeanor falter. It's sad, I think, that he finds it so hard to fathom the fact that someone might care about his well-being.

He leads me inside, to the stairwell. "C'mon," he says as we climb up to the roof. It's actually very nice up here, under the black sky. There are chairs and a sofa set up, along with a couple of standing lamps and a low table. On the table, there's an opened case of beer and two empty bottles. Wordlessly, he hands me one, before sitting in a high-backed orange chair and opening another beer for himself.

I stretch out on the couch, pop the top of the bottle, and take a sip of the amber liquid. I then smack my lips and say, "So."

"So," he echoes.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"You couldn't have known," I try in an attempt to ease his embarrassment. "I thought she was perfectly normal, too. She was very pretty."

"I know," he snaps, taking a long swig of beer. "Why are you here?"

"Like I said, I just wanted to make sure you're all right."

"Why do you care?" he demands distrustfully.

"I don't know," I answer sheepishly, staring intently at my chipping violet nail polish. "I felt what you felt, and it was horrible. I wouldn't want to just live with all that without getting some of it off my chest."

He cocks his head to the side, seemingly satisfied with this response. "I went to see her today," he started. "Ruth."

I quirk and eyebrow. "And?"

"She was dead," he says, his voice quivering. "Just sittin' in her chair with a photo album in her lap, properly dead. Mouth hangin' open and everything."

I chew my lip, trying to think of the right way to respond. "I'm sorry," I say finally.

"She shouldn't have done that," he says heatedly. "She tricked me."

I didn't answer.

"But I treated her horribly," he admits. "I just tossed her aside like she was a piece of rubbish. I felt… bad. And now she's dead."

"At least you _tried_ to apologize."

"Yeah."

"What about your mum?"

"What about her?"

"I saw what happened," I say cautiously.

"Did you? Then you'll know that things didn't exactly go well when I tried to show her the ballsack photo."

"Yes, but..." I didn't want to bring up the fact that I had experienced how hurt he was by the whole ordeal.

"She hit me," he said finally. "She's never done that, not even when I was a kid."

I'm somewhat taken aback by this, mostly because I'd been slapped around quite a lot as a child. Never anything too serious, but my mum had given me a few bruises. My dad, thankfully, left before I was old enough to walk. There _had _been a couple of rogue boyfriends, though…

"I'm sure you can make it right," I reply. "Mums are probably the most forgiving people on earth."

"Yeah, then why haven't you made things right with yours?" he counters.

I'm caught off guard by this. "Who ever said I _wanted_ to make things right?" I say.

"Oh, you've got problems too, then? Let's hear 'em, I'm done with my therapy session."

I roll my eyes, before answering, "She married an alcoholic prick and had a kid. There's not much more to say other than he hits her and that poor kid is going to grow up in a living hell. It wasn't any secret that I didn't approve of her decision, per say, and eventually she just got fed up and gave me the boot."

"How cliché," he remarks, taking another large gulp of beer.

I laugh a bit at this, mostly because it's true. There had to be loads of people in situations just like mine, which was why I wasn't exactly in the habit of feeling sorry for myself.

As we're both chuckling, our eyes lock and I suddenly feel very uncomfortable. Usually when Nathan laughs, it's malicious or staged. But this was genuine.

"Well," I say, standing abruptly, "I'll be going then, if you're good."

He stares at me thoughtfully for a moment, weighing his options. He chooses the wrong one. "Or you could always stay, love," he says with a bawdy wink. "I'd love the company. Just as long as you don't turn into an eighty-two-year-old woman halfway through…"

"No, I think I'm gonna go," I state.

"Suit yourself," he shrugs disinterestedly.

As I go towards the doorway to the stairwell, I turn and give him a small smile. Just as I touch the handle, he calls my name.

"Marnie," he chirps, his confidence fully regained, "Thanks, by the way."

I don't say anything, but give him a slight wave before the door closes behind me.

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><p><strong>Author's note: I hope you all liked it! I think Nathan does indeed have a softer side, though we don't get to see it that often. When he's talking to Ruth in her house during the second episode, I think we see that he doesn't always have to be such a dickhead. So, I hope you think he was in character! Please review and let me know what you think!<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: I am infinitely thankful to everyone who has reviewed/favorited/subscribed. I really need and appreciate the feedback. I hope you all like this chapter! :-)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

On Monday, we're charged with sorting clothes for people in Africa. It's a bit awkward seeing Nathan, given the fact that we haven't had any communication since our chat on Friday. He's as lively and as annoying as ever, though, as I quickly find out.

As we're in the locker room, Kelly says, "Someone knows we killed our probation worker."

"What?" I exclaim.

"Yeah, didncha see the note in Curtis' lockah?"

"No."

"Someone wrote somefin' that said 'I know what you did.'"

"You're sure _that's_ what it's referring to?"

"What else could it be?" Curtis chimes in.

"Do you think it's Sally?" asks Simon.

"Who's Sally?" Nathan demands.

"Our new probation worker," Simon answers.

"Oh-ho, Sally. Why d'you know her name?" Nathan continues to interrogate.

"She told us."

"Well you're a twat, because _Sally_ didn't show up until the day after we killed the other probation worker – and I assume you know his name, too."

"Tony."

"Do you love him?" Nathan jokes. I elbow him in the ribs.

"He's right," Kelly says, "She wasn't here."

"If I'm invisible," Simon suggests, "I can stay in here and see if anyone else puts anything in our lockers."

"Sounds like a plan," says Curtis. He and Alisha share a lovey-dovey-eyed look and he asks, "You all right with that, yeah?"

"Works for me," she agrees seductively with a smirk, having just finished applying her mascara.

"You see that," Nathan hisses in my ear, "What was I sayin' about people hooking up? Bloody hell, it's already started! We better get a move on, love."

I look at him disapprovingly and whisper back, "I wouldn't get your hopes up, _love_."

"Go on then," Curtis finally says to Simon, "Turn invisible."

We all look at the pale-eyed boy expectantly. "I can't do it when everyone's watching me," he says uncomfortably under our intense gaze.

Nathan scoffs and jokes, "So I guess it's like pissin' a urinal if you've got a tiny cock?" I cover my face with my hands in exasperation, causing him to smirk at my reaction.

"I suppose you're speaking from personal experience," I quip after a moment.

He puts his hands to his chest and takes a step away from me, feigning offense. His inadvertent grin gives him away, though.

"Well, that's – uh – really impressive," Alisha snaps sarcastically at Simon as we leave.

I give him one last expectant glance, before heading out behind Kelly and Nathan.

The guy who has given us this task of sorting clothes for people in Africa is young, probably around our ages. It strikes me then that I don't actually know anyone's age. I'd just assumed that we were all in our early twenties, but I wasn't entirely sure. But it doesn't really matter. I can't help but find the guy slightly attractive.

"If you've got any questions, just ask," he says before he leaves us to it.

Nathan raised his hand enthusiastically, like a child. "If a bear and a shark had a fight, who would win?" he demands, raising his eyebrows and blinking dumbly at the guy. I cover my mouth to hide my smile and I see that Kelly is looking at him in amusement, too.

The guy gives him a blank stare and replies, "If you've got any _relevant _questions, just ask. Oh," he says on his way out, "And if it's on dry land, I'd bet on the bear."

Alisha grins at him, causing Curtis to eye him in disgust.

"Nice one," I say to Nathan.

Curtis and Alisha jump into one of the piles, and Kelly quickly follows suit. I go to do the same, but Nathan puts his hand in front of me. I look up at him and he's staring at me expectantly. I soon realize that he means for us to go at the same time and race. I grin, before he finally moves his arm. As he's lying down in the pile, I take a mustard-colored jumper and throw it on his face.

"Oi, you'll pay for that," he says.

He jumps up spryly and grabs me around the waist from behind. I shriek as he easily lifts me off the ground and swings me around once, before releasing me into the pile of clothing. As I hit the padded ground, I can't help but burst out laughing. Alisha and Curtis are fighting, too, and it becomes apparent that I've just _flirted_ with Nathan. We were pretty much a reflection of the other two, and they were most _definitely_ flirting. Oh dear. This is bad. When he touched me, I got that stupid fluttering sensation that people get when someone they fancy interacts with them. Did that mean I fancied Nathan? No, no, I couldn't. I wasn't _that_ stupid.

He's sitting in the huge mound of clothes, and suddenly digs up a ski shoe. "Skiwear, classic," he says, holding it up. "Try walking five miles to the well in these."

I laugh and say, "What the hell kind of dumbass would donate those?"

"Dunno," he says lightly, procuring a pair of ski goggles. He puts them on. "Hey, hey, hey, who am I?" he asks before breaking into a horrendous song that sounds like a cat dying. Everyone is silent. I know who he's supposed to be, but I don't say anything. "C'mon!" he exclaims. "Okay, alright, alright, alright. I'll give you a clue. I'm an annoying cunt."

"Yourself?" I say. The others chuckle.

He looks at me, offended. "I'm _Bono_!" he says earnestly. He then proceeds to grab the back of my neck and dunk my face into the clothing. I shove him hard in retaliation.

Suddenly, a girl wearing a cap walks in with the new probation worker.

"Who's that?" Nathan asks.

"This girl I had a fight wiv," Kelly answers. "I've gotta do some restorative justice bollocks with 'er."

"Hey, hey, Bono, yeah?" Nathan says to the probation worker.

"What?" is her un-amused response.

"I don't know why I bother," he says in exasperation.

Sally calls Kelly into her office to talk with the girl, leaving Nathan, Curtis, Alisha, and me. Oh god, this was bound to be awkward.

Alisha's holding a white and red polka-dot dress up to herself, and the guy leading the charity comes back and says, "Suit's ya."

I roll my eyes, mostly because almost every single male that has passed through the community center has been smitten with Alisha. I don't understand what it is about her that attracts guys – she really didn't even need her power. Sure, she's beautiful, but it seems that _everyone_ thought so. Except Nathan, I suppose. He doesn't really seem into her in the slightest…

Curtis saw this exchange and sighed. I caught it, but she didn't. It was a bit sad – I thought they'd be cute together, but Alisha didn't strike me as the type who would be too keen on having a monogamous relationship.

"Trouble in paradise," Nathan whispered conspiratorially to Curtis.

"Shut the fuck up!"

Nathan shirked away from him, afraid of being hit. "So-rry," he muttered insincerely. He then strapped on a pair of roller-skates and slowly rolled by the probation worker's office, singing opera as he went. Immediately, she opened the door and shouted, "Take the roller-skates off! And the goggles. Take them off!"

Nathan quickly does as she instructed, like a student being scolded by a teacher. I laugh as he skulks back to where we are. "You got told," I remark.

"Shut it," he snaps. He then finds a white blazer and pulls it on.

Alisha plops a white top hat on Curtis' head, before slipping into a white summer dress. Going with the theme of white, I find a white evening gown. It's strapless and floor length, and looks as if it might have even been someone's wedding dress. I step into it. "Zip me up," I order Nathan. He does as I ask and says, "Lookin' good." I know he's being sarcastic, because there's no way that this looks good over an orange jumpsuit.

All of a sudden, I hear, "You're a slag whore!" It's the girl from before, the girl Kelly was supposed to make amends with. A chair comes flying out of the office as Kelly screams, and we all jump back comically. "I was trying to be nice!" she yells, her hair disheveled. She gives us all one fleeting look before storming away.

The probation worker is outside talking to the other girl, whom Kelly has given a bloody nose. We all take this as our cue to go on break. Alisha and Curtis go outside, and Nathan says to me, "Those two are _definitely_ going to shag."

"How can you tell?"

"Alisha's been making fuck-me-eyes at him for the entire day, lucky bastard! It's just a matter o' time…"

"I do suppose she could have him whenever she wanted…" I agree.

"Yeah, she's got that wonderful gift," he mutters, jealousy evident in his tone.

"It's not so good," I say, "Think about it – she can never touch a guy without that happening. Think about how hard it's going to be for her to have a real relationship."

"Who the fuck cares about that _sentimental _bollocks! _I'd_ give my left nut for her power. She can shag _whoever_ she wants, _whenever_ she wants. Life doesn't get much better than that, if you ask me."

"I _wasn't_ asking you…" I mumble in irritation. He can't be serious for even one moment. He _is_ annoying, like everyone says, but he annoys me for a different reason. His comments are all an elaborate and subconscious effort to create a mask of invulnerability. I know, I know he can be hurt. The things people say to him, they do sting. They must. But he doesn't let it show.

"Speaking of powers," I say, "Have you found out what yours is yet?"

"No," he answers sullenly. "It's bloody irritating, it is. Everyone can do something and _I_ can't."

"I'm sure you can," I reply. "It's just taking a while for you to discover what it is."

"What if I never even figure it out?" he demands in frustration. "How the hell is that fair? I was in that storm, too!"

We see Kelly walk past us, into the locker room. Nathan starts to follow her, and I follow him.

"Great restorative justice," he mocks with a laugh.

"I was bein' nice," she defends angrily.

"Oh yeah, you were being lovely," he retorts sarcastically. "Right up until you threw the chair at her."

I notice that Curtis is already in the locker room, and he doesn't look pleased. Suddenly, Simon appears and startles him.

"Don't be doin' that shit around me!" he reprimands. "You been in here all day?"

"Yeah," he answers with an irrationally smug smirk.

"What 'appened?" Kelly asks.

Simon and Curtis share a meaningful glace. "Nothing," Simon finally answers. "No one came in."

I look between the two of them skeptically. _Oh, something happened, all right,_ I think. Nathan inhales sharply and says, "Well, that's an anticlimax!" He then turns to his locker and opens it. I notice that Simon and Curtis are still looking at each other strangely, and it strikes me as odd that Alisha's not here.

I'm determined to get to the bottom of this. As we're leaving the room, I "accidentally" brush shoulders with Curtis. The benefit of my power was that the person I was using it on didn't necessarily have to know what was going on – I just had to disguise my reaction better. What I saw was this: Alisha yelling at me, telling me that I'd enjoyed "it" and that I "kept telling her that I wanted to be with her." I felt a surge of anger rush through my veins.

"Oi, you all right?" Curtis asks me suspiciously.

I put on a mask of indifference. "Yeah, fine," I answer with an unconvincing smile. Nathan had been right – Curtis and Alisha _had _shagged. But, it seems, the interaction wasn't exactly voluntary on Curtis' part.

Before I leave the building, I catch up with Nathan who is walking ahead of me, towards the vending machine. I sneak up behind him and whisper in his ear, "You were right."

"Oh?" he replies casually, quirking an eyebrow.

"About Curtis and Alisha," I clarify. "They shagged."

He smirks in response. "I'm tellin' ya," he says, "It's just biology… Lookit you," he continued, "using your powers to spy on people. A little devious if you ask me."

"I thought you'd approve."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, love – I'm not sayin' that I don't! In fact, I wholeheartedly approve. I just didn't really expect if from you."

"Well, I _am_ doing community service for breaking the law. Not exactly a goody-two-shoes, am I?"

"You kinda strike me as one o' those 'wrong place at the wrong time' kinda cases, though," he answers thoughtfully.

"If you say so," I mutter. I didn't really want to continue this conversation any longer. Now, it was getting too personal for me. "I'll see ya tomorrow, yeah?" I say as I start to walk towards the door.

"Yeah, see ya," he replies before banging furiously on the vending machine.

I roll my eyes and step out into the sunlight, unable to repress the small smirk that's found its way to my face.

_(The next day…)_

Curtis, Nathan, and I are the first to arrive that morning. We're on the roof, and Nathan's made it his new goal to figure out what his power is. Curtis is lounging on the padded bench, while Nathan is sitting and focusing on a bottle.

"What are you doing?" I ask dryly.

"Trying to break this bloody thing… With my _mind_," he answers, his eyes never leaving the object. He puts his fingers to his temples, and I can't help but chuckle. He looks a bit like a mental-disabled version of Professor Xavier from X-Men.

"I don't think it's working," I comment after several moments.

"Shut up!" he answers, his face turning red as he concentrates.

I snort at the ridiculousness of the situation, and suddenly Simon appears with a remarkably panic-stricken look on his face.

"We've got a problem!" he announces.

"Will you shut up!" is Nathan's aggravated reply. "I nearly had it."

"What's he doing?" Simon asks.

"Trying to smash a bottle with his mind," Curtis answers nonchalantly, never leaving his relaxed position on the bench.

Nathan continues to make constipated expressions, and Curtis finally pays attention to what he's doing. "I think he's going to shit himself," he comments. I whack Nathan in the stomach with the back of my hand, breaking him out of his… whatever you would call it.

"Aw, bullshit!" he bursts out, kicking the table and send the bottle toppling to the floor. It shatters. Mission accomplished.

"That way's much more efficient," I remark snidely.

He paces angrily and Simon repeats, "We've got a problem."

"I've got a power, I can _feel_ it in my balls," Nathan says, ignoring him.

"Listen to me!" Simon hisses.

"It's like a soft… vibrating. You get that, yeah?" he asks Curtis.

"No," is his succinct reply.

"They're gonna dig up the bodies," Simon finally gets out. Now, he's got all of our attention. "They're going to build an environmental monitoring station under the flyover."

"They're buildin' a _what_?" Nathan demands boisterously. "That sounds made-up, are we supposed to know what that is?"

"It's to measure the carbon monoxide from the flyover. When they dig the foundations, they'll find the bodies," he says.

I raise my eyebrows in distress. "What are we gonna do?" I ask.

"I don't know," Simon answers. "There aren't many options."

"We need to move 'em," Curtis says.

"A couple of questions," Nathan whispers, "How? Where? _Are you out of your mind_?"

"We can't leave 'em there, they'll find 'em!"

"Oh, whereas diggin' in up and wanderin' around with 'em – that's a real low-risk strategy!" he hisses.

"He's right," I agree, "We have no way of transporting them anywhere else."

"You got a better idea?" Curtis demands. "Let's hear it!"

"Yeah, I do have a better idea. You –" he whistles, circling his index fingers around one another, as if to indicate going back in time, "and stop us from killin' him in the first place."

"Show me how it works, and I'll do it," he snaps.

"We need a car," Simon interjects.

"Have you got a car?" Nathan asks.

"No."

"Great, maybe we should call a cab. Better make it a seven-seater," he says. He's particularly frustrated, his jaw clenched. I can't help but think that he looks infinitely better, all intense and serious like this. Good God, I need to stop. It's pathetic.

We finally go downstairs and start to sort out the clothes. All of us are trying to think of ways to get out of this predicament, when suddenly Kelly walks in. She's dressed _way_ differently than she usually is, with her hair down, a pink baseball cap on her head, and sunglasses on her face.

"Where've you been?" Alisha demands.

"I've been to the doctor's," she answers.

"Yeah, well while you were getting' your smear test, big shock! We found out the bodies are about to be dug up," says Nathan.

"They're building an environmental monitoring station under the flyover," Simon elaborates.

"Sounds like bullshit, right?"

"Can you steal a car?" Alisha asks.

"Can you get us a car?" says Curtis.

"Fuck off," replies Kelly.

"Alright, touchy," Nathan starts, "C'mon, look – we're a bunch of young offenders, but not one of us knows how to steal a car?" I smirk at the way he pronounces the last word, his accent very apparent. "That is pathetic!" he continues.

"Look, I'll borrow my dad's car," Alisha says finally.

"You're banned from driving, so that makes sense, right?" Curtis quips.

"Oh, you're like a whiny little bitch," she snaps.

"Guys, guys, guys, c'mon," Nathan mediates, "We need to work together. Think of it as a team-building exercise, huh? I'm feelin' this!" By this time, he has his arms around both of them, and neither party looks assured. "Are we feelin' this?"

Alisha wrenches out of his grip, muttering, "Prick." Curtis soon follows suit, leaving Nathan standing awkwardly.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: Hope you all liked it! <em>Please<em> review?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_(Later that night...)_

We arrive at the community center the very same night, when no one's around. The area is pitch-black, illuminated only by the headlights of Alisha's dad's car. We're standing around the back of the vehicle, when Alisha comes over and opens the boot.

"So what are we going to do with them when we dig 'em up?" she asks.

"We weigh 'em down and toss 'em in the lake," Curtis answers.

"We do that," Nathan says, "And next week, you know, the council decides, 'let's drag the lake!' So predictable."

"Yeah," Alisha agrees. "Should we bury 'em somewhere else?"

"Enough with the diggin' and the buryin' already," Nathan laments.

"You come up with somethin', then," Curtis hisses, his patience weighing thin.

"We boil them in a bath of sulfuric acid, serial killer style," he suggests dramatically.

"Yeah, that makes sense! And where do you suppose we're going to get that?" I demand in irritation. This was becoming way too complex. The lake idea didn't seem too bad, I mean, even if they found them, who's to say we need to be implicated. Or, we could drive far, far, away from the community center, somewhere no one would ever suspect.

"We could store them in the community center until we decide what to do with them," Simon suggests. That seemed like a horrible idea. Just casually storing bodies where we work? Oh no, that wouldn't look bad for us if someone found them – not at all.

"We can't do that," I interject. "What if someone finds them? We're totally screwed!"

"Oh wait, yeah," Curtis pipes in sarcastically. "The community center! 'Cause they have a special room for storin' corpses!"

"There's a disused storeroom upstairs, I've got a key," Nathan says without making eye contact with anyone. We're all squeezed into the back of the car, and I'm pretty much sitting on one of Curtis' knees and one of Kelly's, making for quite an odd scene.

"Why have you got a key?" Kelly asks.

Everyone looks at him expectantly – everyone except me. He glances around shiftily, before finally admitting, "I nicked them because I'm livin' in the community center, okay? Happy? Big secret revealed. " He's genuinely distressed that he's had to admit this to everyone.

Curtis makes a noise of amusement and I glare at him dangerously. "What, is he your boy or somethin'?" he snaps, feeling cornered. I don't even grace him with a reply, but instead roll my eyes. Surprisingly, Nathan doesn't have anything to interject. Kelly backs me up. "Be nice," she says.

Finally, Nathan speaks in an attempt to change the subject. "This is a pretty sweet ride."

Alisha starts the car and we head off.

The digging is horrible. It's much worse working in reverse, we quickly find out. And in the dark, too. I feel as if I'm in a horror movie. Luckily, I don't actually have to do _that_ much digging, and the boys bear the brunt of the work. Kelly, Alisha, and I are charged with providing the light. As we get deeper, a foul odor invades the air. It's the stench of decay, making it clear that we're close. Nathan, the one closest to it, starts gagging violently. We all look at him in disgust. Him vomiting would make the situation infinitely worse, if that's even possible. Luckily, this spell of nausea passes and he continues digging. As he thrusts his shovel into the dirt, there's a sickening _crunch_ of metal meeting rotten flesh.

"I've got something," he says. It's… a hand. Tony's hand, to be precise. He's severed it from the body. "Oops."

"That's rank," I say as my stomach churns.

Nathan and I are left to fill in the ditches as the others wrap the bodies up and throw them in the boot.

"This is seriously fucked up," I comment.

"Isn't it? I think it's safe to say that I'll be having nightmares for the rest of my life thanks to this enriching experience. That bloke sure was onto something when he said we'd have a chance to improve the community, wasn't he?"

I laughed dryly at this comment, before continued to fill in the hole in silence. After a while, I asked, "Are you all right?"

He looked at me quizzically. "'Course I am, this is all peaches n' cream, isn't it? I don't know about you, but I'm having the time of my life."

"That's not what I mean. I'm not talking about _this_," I clarify, motioning to our surroundings.

"Then what _are _you talking about?"

"The whole thing in the car. Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" He was being evasive, but I could see by the way he was narrowing his green eyes that he knew very well what I meant.

"I don't know, you seemed a bit dodgy. I know it wasn't exactly something you wanted everyone to know."

"Well, they were bound to find out sooner or later. You don't need to _worry_ about me, love," he said, furrowing his brow. He looked down at the semi-covered ditch, and then to me. He sucked in a deep breath.

"I'm not worried. I was just asking," I snap.

"We don't have to be that intimate with each other's lives," he continues exasperatedly. "Not so big on the sharin'."

I'm slightly taken aback. He hadn't been so jumpy before, back at the community center. But maybe that had been on account of the alcohol… "No need to bite my head off," I say icily.

"Look, love, it's nice that you care, it really is," he prattles on, "But it's not necessary. If you want to shag, I'm down, absolutely 100 percent. But this – this _emotional_ bullshit – not really my area." With that, he walked away, all the while carrying Tony's detached hand.

I followed him to the car; Curtis was about to shut the back.

"Forgetting something?" Nathan said, waving the hand. Curtis rolled his eyes and waited impatiently for him to throw it in. He did throw it, but it hit the windscreen instead. After retrieving the appendage and tossing it with the bodies, he raced to the front seat, leaving Curtis and I to squish into the back once again. The expression on Curtis' face was one of such rage, it almost startled me. It was just a matter of time until he beat the shit out of Nathan, and I didn't want to be around when it happened.

Hauling bodies through the community center was not a pastime that I would highly recommend. They smelt horrendous, and they were heavy as fuck. I didn't think I would ever completely get the revolting stench out of these clothes – I would probably have to burn them when I got home.

As Kelly and I carry the last of the bodies through the threshold of the storage room, Nathan says, "I like your cap." He removes it from her head before she can stop him. She lets out a shriek as the cap comes off, along with all of her hair. She's bald. Completely bald. She and Nathan look at each other, both equally horrified. She then runs off in shame.

Simon, Curtis, and Alisha emerge from the storeroom, also in shock. We all just stare at the place where Kelly had been standing, before Simon asks, "Did you know she was bald?"

"'Course not, twat!" Nathan snaps. "Jesus…" He looks very upset, almost guilty. My gaze softens as I see that he really hadn't meant to humiliate her in such a way.

"You should go apologize," I suggest quietly.

"She looked like an alien," Alisha observes coldly.

"Ah, don't be mean," Nathan scolds. However, he fails to repress the urge to snicker. "She did, didn't she? A bald alien…" he agrees finally. I give him a whack, as has become customary whenever he says something particularly dreadful. "Ow!" he exclaims, rubbing the affected area. "Alright, alright, I'm goin'…" he mutters before stalking off to find her.

Alisha and Curtis' eyes lock, and it becomes painfully clear that they're trying to have a moment.

"C'mon," I say to Simon. "I – uh – need your help with something." Alisha shoots me a grateful look as Simon and I walk downstairs.

"What was it you needed?" he asks once we're out of earshot.

"Oh," I answer awkwardly, "I just – they looked like they needed to talk about something in private."

"Oh." He seems somewhat deflated.

He starts to walk away, and I feel guilt prick at my heartstrings. "Wait," I chuckle, "you don't have to leave."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean, I wasn't telling you to get lost or anything… So – uh – how is everything?" I ask in a desperately pathetic attempt to make conversation.

He looks at me like I have four heads. "Are you seriously asking me that?"

"I'm just trying to make conversation…"

He eyes me carefully, mulling over his next choice of words. "Do you fancy him?" he asks abruptly.

"What?"

"Do you fancy Nathan?"

"No, why would you ask that?" I sputter defensively.

"You two seem to spend a lot of time together," he rationalizes. "It's amazing that you'd be able to tolerate him for so long if you didn't fancy him. He's a complete wanker."

I don't disagree. "Yeah, but… I don't know. I don't think that's completely him. _No one_ is really that much of a dick _all_ the time."

"I don't know him," Simon said. "Nor do I desire to. It just seems odd, is all. You're not like him in the least."

I can feel a sheepish blush creeping across my cheeks – I'm starting to like this Simon kid, and I can't help but feel bad for thinking so ill of him when this community service stuff first started.

"I'll take that as a compliment," I say finally.

He gives me a nervous smile. "I – uh – better be going," he says, eager to break off the sustained social contact.

"Alright," I reply. "See you tomorrow."

"See you," he says on his way out the door.

I stand in the lobby of the community center, waiting. For what, I do not know. I'm certainly going to leave, but I don't want to catch up to Simon after just having bid him goodbye. That would be weird. So, I have to wait until he's a safe distance away. It's ridiculous, but c'mon – everyone does this sort of thing sometimes. It would be too awkward to have to talk to him again, so I'd rather just avoid it altogether.

I soon decide that it's safe to go outside, and Nathan and Kelly come into view. She's wearing her wig and cap once again, and they seem to have reconciled.

"Everything all right?" I ask.

"Everything's fine," Nathan chortles, "We're thick as thieves, once again. What are you still doing here?"

"Kind of a long story," I answer.

"Uh huh," he replies. "Well, I was just gonna walk Kelly here home. Care to join the caravan?"

"Sure." I might have imagined it, but I think Kelly looks a mite disappointed. Oh _no_ – she couldn't… Did she? Did she fancy Nathan too? Oh, this was just terrible. Fuck.

"Y'know," she says with a tinge of irritation in her tone, "I fink I'm gonna just go on me own, thanks."

"What – why?" Nathan questions, genuinely confused.

"I just am. See yous tomorrow."

Once she's out of sight, Nathan comments, "Well, that was weird."

"Hm."

"_What_?" he accuses as we walk in the direction of my flat.

"Nothing."

"No, that was not a 'nothing' kind of hm. That was a _something_ kind of hm."

"Trust me, you don't want to know."

"Celestial law dictates that by saying that you now _have_ to tell me."

"I don't think so."

"C'mon," he pressures, walking backwards in front of me.

"I think I might have just accidentally cock-blocked you," I say finally.

"What?" he exclaims, now thoroughly interested. "You think she woulda shagged me?"

"Maybe."

"Aw, for fuck's sake! Is it too late to catch up with her?" he demands, straining his eyes to see ahead.

"Wow, thanks."

"It's nothin' personal, love! You understand, don't you?"

"Sure."

"Oh c'mon, don't be like that! Everyone knows that shagging comes before all other priorities!"

He looks at me, and I make it clear from my sour pout that I am not amused. He laughs and slings his arm around me languidly. "I think she's too far ahead… But this means you owe me a shag," he continues, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

I shrug his arm off my shoulder, scoff, and roll my eyes, making it clear that I am not interested. But it's done in such a way - as people in my situation often do - that it's not a complete denial. It leaves room for the possibility of some interest on my part. It's a steadfast rejection, to be sure, but there is no disgust at the prospect.

"Aw, c'mon. I'm being chivalrous, am I not? I'm walkin' you home. How many lads would do that, hm? I think I deserve a little _reward_…"

Thankfully, by this time we were at the stairs leading my flat. "Yeah, nothing to set the mood like a bit of grave robbing, huh? Anyway, we're here," I announce. He walks me up the staircase and across the ramp that leads to my door. "Thanks for walking me home," I say sincerely as I rummage through my pockets for my keys, "But it's not happening."

"Yeah, yeah," he dismisses sullenly, resigned to the fact that he's not going to get any action. "See ya tomorrow."

I smile at him and unexpectedly give him a peck on the cheek. "See you," I reply, stepping inside before he has the opportunity to initiate further physical contact. The look on his face is priceless. It's as if it's dawned on him that talking to me isn't a complete waste of his time after all. He turns away from the door with a new pep in his step and springs back towards the community center. I almost think he might leap into the air and clap his heels together. "My offer still stands about the dinner thing," I call as he reaches the top of the stairs. He neither replies nor turns around, but waves to me. I think perhaps he doesn't want me to see the huge grin gracing his features.

_(The next day…)_

When I'm in the locker room changing, Kelly storms in, fuming. "It was 'er ex-boyfriend and 'e's bald!" she shouts as Nathan trails her. He's wearing a gray-blue jumper that looks dead sexy on him. "She's got this power or somfin'!" she growls, slamming the door to her locker. "That bitch did this to me!"

"So she has the power to turn people bald," Nathan says contemplatively, stating the obvious. "That is rubbish!"

"When I catch 'er, I'm gonna batter 'er – I'm gonna rip 'er tits off."

"That sounds painful," I mutter, looking suspiciously between Nathan and Kelly. Her talking to him makes me a bit uneasy. I know it's stupid and irrational, but, in case you haven't noticed, I'm the jealous type. Not that I really had anything to be jealous about. But still.

"_Very_ painful," he seconds.

Once we're out in the lobby, Simon proclaims, "We need to bury the bodies under the foundation of the environmental monitoring station before they pour in the concrete."

"So your plan is: we did up the bodies, and then we rebury them in _exactly_ the same place? You're a genius!"

"That works," Curtis says with a smile.

"Yeah, that's smart," Kelly agrees.

Simon looks absolutely chuffed at the positive attention.

Nathan scoffs. "It's okay."

We walk outside after hauling some boxes to the helping-the-Africans-guy, before arriving on the terrace to see Alisha walking off with him.

"Where's she going?" I demand.

"Is she hookin' up with him?" Kelly wonders aloud.

"That is _definitely_ on," Nathan concurs.

"How do we move the bodies without her dad's car?" Simon asks.

"You need to get that tart on the phone and tell her we need her dad's car to shift the stiffs," Nathan hisses, pointing his finger at Curtis, who then walks off behind her.

"Where are you going?" Kelly demands, "We need to move the bodies."

"You deal with it," he snaps.

"Hey, fuck you," I burst out, flipping him the bird. Everyone looks surprised. "What?" I ask innocently.

"Nothin'," Nathan replies with a smirk that might be called pleased. "Nothin' at all."

After a moment, Simon suggests, "We could take Sally's car."

"Who's Sally?" Nathan asks stupidly.

"The probation worker, you fucking idiot," I answer in annoyance. Kelly and Simon look at him like he's completely brainless.

Simon uses his power to fetch her car keys, and we haul the bodies from the storage closet down to the car without incident.

Just as we slam the boot shut, Sally appears from the building.

"Oh, shit!" Nathan exclaims. He grabs the back of my neck and pushes me down behind the opposite side of the car. The others follow this example.

"What are we going to do?" I hiss in panic. We make it to the cover of a bunch of barrels and dumpsters just before she climbs into the driver's seat. We quickly realize that Nathan stupidly left the keys in the ignition as she drives away.

"Fuck!" I exclaim as we run out from our hiding place, swearing for the zillionth time today.

"No, no," Nathan chants, "This could be all right. Maybe she won't look in the boot. She might never realize. All we have to do is wait until she comes back. It could be fine."

"She'll smell it," I insist. "It smells like rot!"

"Maybe she'll just think she's run over a skunk or something," he tries hopefully. None of us are convinced. Eventually, we force him to call Curtis and explain the situation. We need all the help we can get at the moment.

"Well that's it," Nathan says, "We're all going to prison. You'll be all right," he says to Kelly. "You've got that whole bald thing – you're well butch." She punches him. Hard. "Ow! Ow! I mean it as a good thing! Her, on the other hand, _you_," he says, pointing to me, "you'd best prepare to be some big, scary lezzie's fuck toy." My jaw drops in indignation, but Kelly takes care of the corporal abuse for me. "Ow!" he repeats again, "You know, you all hit me a lot."

"Yeah, because you're a dick!"

We leave it at that. The day is over. Our fate won't be sealed until tomorrow...

_(The next day…)_

We all arrive in the lobby, scared shitless. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," I chant, pacing the room.

"We would have been arrested by now if she found the bodies," Alisha points out rationally.

"Maybe they're waiting until we're all together," Simon interjects.

"Now why would you say something like that?" Nathan says. I can't help but agree.

"What time does she usually get here?" Kelly asks.

"About eight o'clock."

We wait for her behind the dumpsters, adrenaline coursing through our veins. We see her drive up.

"She didn't look in the boot!" I exclaim happily.

"We're gonna to be okay, we're not going to go to prison!" Nathan says, hugging me around the waist out of sheer relief. I notice that his head is dangerously close to my breasts, but I don't even pull away because I, too, am ecstatic. It feels odd to be completely held in place by his arms; it's not even a half hug, he's using me as a human teddy bear. I'm suddenly very thankful that I've been doing crunches.

We watch her carefully as she parks. Nathan brushes my long hair out of his face as we observe.

Suddenly, Curtis looks at us, horror etched across his features.

"She's gonna get out of the car, she's gonna walk to the boot, and she's gonna find the bodies!" he hisses in terror.

"How do you know?" Alisha questions.

"It's already happened once," he explains.

"So now you rewind time," Nathan says in outrage, his grip on me tightening out of utter dread. It's then that he notices that the position we're in and lets go abruptly, eyeing me anxiously. It's understood in the look we share that we're not to speak of this again.

"Get the bodies," he instructs in dismay, before running out from our hiding place with a cinder-block in hand. By this point, Sally has exited her car. Without further hesitation, he chucks the cinder-block into her windscreen, causing the glass to shatter. We all flinch.

She looks at him in total disbelief. "What the hell are you doing?"

"It's just pure, mindless vandalism," he stammers.

"What is the matter with you? Are you mentally deficient?"

"If I was mentally deficient, I would have missed," he says with an uneasy grin. "Check that out – bull's-eye."

"My office, _now_," she says, completely livid. "NOW!"

Everyone else lets out a sigh of relief, infinitely glad that Nathan has sacrificed himself. We seize this beautiful opportunity and rebury the bodies and stick around to watch as the workers pour concrete into the area. I feel my heart soar; it's as if a gigantic weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Done. It's over. Mission accomplished... Sucks for Nathan, though. I smirk to myself, knowing that he's going to be in a whole heap of trouble.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note: Thanks so much for reading so far! Thanks especially to Trulzxoxo for reviewing! I hope everyone likes this chapter :-)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

It it's not long before the six of us are back into the routine of picking up litter and doing various other useless tasks. I'm in the locker room, changing, and all of a sudden Nathan comes racing in like a lunatic.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I demand as he grabs my bare shoulders to slow himself down. I'm only wearing my jumpsuit to the waist, and my lacy blue bra is on full display.

"Just caught Curtis and Alisha shaggin' in the storage room!" he exclaims with a devious grin. "Well, not exactly shaggin' per say… They were wanking themselves off!"

"No way," I say, a mischievous smirk finding its way to my lips.

"You better believe it," he affirms, releasing me. I quickly pull up my jumpsuit. It appears that he's been too distracted by his new discovery to even realize that he's seen me in my undergarments.

"That's really weird," I say after a moment.

"You're telling me. It's like they can't properly shag because of her power – what's the point in that?"

"You actually saw them?" I wince, feeling sorry for the pair. By this time, Simon and Kelly had gathered and were also interested in Nathan's tale.

"Well, no, but it was pretty obvious what they were up to, if you know what I mean…" He starts making moaning noises and I shove him lightly to make him stop.

"You're a pervert," I say.

"So what if I am!" he defends. "They're the ones who're shagging on the job, not me!" "Although," he adds as an afterthought, "if I were given the option…"

"I bet you enjoyed it," Alisha quips as she and Curtis sheepishly enter the room.

"Oh yeah, 'course I did," he says sarcastically. "I always get off watching other people do it." He grabs Simon around the waist and proceeds to molest him in some strange way. "He knows what I'm talking about, don't you," he says, "I know you carry that camera around for a reason…"

Simon tries desperately to squirm out of his grasp, completely mortified.

As we walk outside, Alisha explains that what she and Curtis have is "really special," and Kelly and I look equally confused. What's the point of having a relationship if you can't touch the other person without him going into a lust-fueled frenzy?

Ahead of me, I hear Nathan say, "It's not gay if I wank ya off with the grabber! We're not touching!"

I can't help but roll my eyes. Poor Simon…

"Leave him alone," I chide.

Nathan spins around abruptly. "Leave him alone?" he echoes, "What, are you in love with him or something?"

"_No_."

"You're jealous, then? Look, I can't give you all of my attention all the time, sweetheart…"

"_No_, that's not it either," I snap. "He hasn't done anything to you, and can't you see you're embarrassing him."

Nathan turns to Simon. "I'm embarrassing you, am I? Well, no need to feel that way, mate. Your attraction to me is perfectly understandable."

"That's not what she means," Simon stammers. "And I'm _not _attracted to you."

"Yeah, yeah, that's what they all say…" he taunts.

"Can you please just shut up?" I hiss. "Jesus Christ, do you _ever_ stop talking?"

"No."

"It was a rhetorical question!" I throw a crushed soda can at him and he flinches exaggeratedly. I laugh despite myself, and he grins proudly at my reaction. Kelly rolls her eyes at us. _Fuck_, it suddenly dawns on me, _what if she can hear what I'm thinking – what if she's been hearing what I'm thinking this entire time? What if she knows I fancy Nathan?_

"I do," she says in response to this, "But trust me, I don' need to 'ear your thoughts to know that."

"What's she on about?" Nathan demands.

"Nothing," I stutter much quicker than is appropriate.

Nathan narrows his eyes at Kelly and me and points his grabber at each of us. "I'll get to the bottom of this," he states ominously before walking ahead. I look behind the group of us and see Curtis off talking to some random girl; she seems upset.

"What's that about?" I ask Alisha, indicating to the scene.

"Dunno," she says, clearly suspicious.

"Well," I continue in a halfhearted attempt to comfort her, "I'm sure it's nothing."

"Yeah," she agrees. It's obvious that she's not convinced, but she eventually decides to leave it and we catch up with the others.

**xOx  
><strong>

The morning shift of trash collecting the next day was uneventful and boring, as always. Nathan threw out some obnoxious comments, while Alisha and Curtis flirted. Kelly and I talked a bit, while Simon mostly kept to himself. When it comes time for our break, the six of us sit in the sun by the lake. Alisha and Curtis seem as smitten as they were before, so I assume that whoever that girl Curtis had been talking to wasn't important.

"So, how does it work, the whole telepathy thing?" I ask Kelly. I'm already completely flustered that she knows about the Nathan situation, but I hope that by befriending her I can ensure that she won't tell anyone.

"What d'ya mean?"

"Like, can you hear _everything_ that everyone says, or is it just stuff relating to you?"

"Depends," she says bluntly, taking a drag of her cigarette.

"Can you control it?"

"Not really… But it's not constant, if that's what you're askin'. I fink I'd go mad if I 'ad to listen ta people's thoughts all day long… Usually it 'appens when I'm wonderin' about what a person's thinkin', but not always."

I nod my head. "That's kind of like mine," I say. "Only I have to be touching the person. And it lets me see and feel if something's bothering them. But it's mostly to do with feeling. Like, if their emotions are really strong I can't really control absorbing them."

"That means you have the power of empathy," Simon pipes in abruptly, having just been caught videoing us by Nathan. It's then that Nathan rips his phone out of his hand, and the two of them get into a spat over it; it's the first time that I've seen Simon legitimately angry; usually he's so mild-mannered.

Nathan's chanting, "He's trying to kiss me, he's trying to kiss me," at which point I decide to intervene. I tear the phone out of his hand and give it back to Simon, before whacking him upside the head. "Ow!" he exclaims, "Stop hittin' me!" Nathan really is a prick, but I can't help but find it a bit disconcerting that Simon's been filming us without our knowledge... Again.

"Fine," Nathan snaps prissily, "have your little toy, melon-fucker!" He then flashes a peace sign at the camera and I roll my eyes as Alisha and Curtis laugh at him.

"Don't touch my phone," Simon snarls viciously.

"It's all right, you've got it back now, haven't you?" I say in an attempt to calm his outrage.

"Yeah. Yeah, thanks."

"No problem," I say, gently patting him on the shoulder. I then return to the others and we make our way inside the community center.

Then, each of us is called in one by one to Sally's office, when we're given the opportunity to, "talk about our community service."

When it's my turn, I slump down on the sofa and cross my arms over my chest. "What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to reflect on the work you've done here so far," Sally says gently.

"I've got no reflecting to do, honestly. If you've read the reason I'm here, you'll know that it's not really a reason at all."

"Well that's not exactly true, is it? It says in your file that you've stolen and car and abducted a minor."

"Yeah, except the car I stole was my stepdad's and the kid I took was my brother. Not exactly criminal activity. I was doing the poor kid a favor. And as for the car, I nicked the keys off him when he was passed out in his own sick. So you tell me who's wrong here."

Sally's gaze softens. "I'm sorry to hear that, but you should have gone to the authorities."

I snort. "Oh yeah, the _authorities_," I scoff, "They'll be a great help. They get hundreds of cases like this, but no one ever does anything."

"It's a bit more complicated than that…"

"Is it? Because when a toddler is in the care of someone who drinks whiskey like water and is unconscious for half the day and asleep for the other, I think there's a problem."

"Isn't your mother around?"

"Yeah."

"Then why doesn't she do something?"

"Because she's a feeble-minded bitch, that's why. She's a blubbering idiot, always feeling sorry for herself but never doing anything about it."

It's clear that Sally doesn't know how to respond – she's not a psychiatrist, after all; she's a probation worker.

Suddenly, Nathan breaks the tension by coming up to the window behind me and making an absurd oral sex gesture with the floor sweeper. I stifle my laugh with the back of my hand. Sally just watches him stoically. When he's out of sight, she says, "What a prick..."

At this, I actually start laughing.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said that," she stammers quickly.

"He is a bit of a prick, isn't he?" I say, looking at him through the window with a grin on my face.

"But you don't dislike him," she notices.

"He's like the – er – comic relief," I say. "He kinda gets under your skin."

"Uh huh." Clearly she does not share my opinion.

"Can I go now?"

"Yeah, you're all right," she says, closing her folder. "Send Simon in, will you?"

With that, I stand up and rush out of the room. I don't want to be psychoanalyzed any longer.

I rejoin the others, who are still cleaning the floors. "She wants to see you," I tell Simon. He nods obediently and walks off, leaving me his sweeper.

"You know," I say to them, "Don't you find it kinda weird that we never found out who was putting that stuff in our lockers?"

"What did I say," Nathans replies, "The whole thing was bollocks."

"Maybe they got something else on us," Curtis suggests.

"Yeah, like wot?" Kelly demands.

"This shit is old news," Nathan interrupts, turning to me. "We have out-foxed the fox, which makes us very bloody fox-ay." The way he says the last bit makes me chuckle, and he looks very satisfied with himself. "You like that, huh?" he observes cockily.

"Oh, shut up," I mutter, the smile never leaving my face.

Several hours later, when it comes time for us to leave for the day, Nathan blocks my way out the door. "Now where do you think _you're_ going?" he asks slyly.

"Home?" I answer, putting my hands on my hips impatiently.

"Fancy a drink?"

I raise my eyebrows. "Have you got any money?"

He falters. "Uh – well – _no_, but I one of my mates has works at a pub just down the way…"

"I think maybe we ought to skip it," I say, trying to push past him.

"Aw, c'mon! Just a drink?"

I smirk at him, enjoying having the upper hand. I still haven't decided whether I'd be open to giving it a go with him yet, and he hasn't really done anything that makes me think he's a worthy prospect. "I'll see you tomorrow," I say, finally getting around him.

"Yeah, yeah, tomorrow," he mumbles darkly, waving me away.

I cheekily blow him a kiss before I leave, which he responds to with his middle finger.

**xOx_  
><em>**

The next morning, we have to wash the windows on the first floor of the community center. Nathan is still going on about what his hidden power might be, the next on his list being talking to animals.

"I think you would've noticed by now if you could," I say.

"Yeah, why wouldya even fink that?" asks Kelly.

"I saw this Basset Hound eating a kebob off the pavement and I was like, 'You dirty bastard,' and this Basset Hound gave me a right funny look."

"That's probably because 'e thought you were a twat," she says logically.

"No, no, it wasn't that kind of look. It was more like – " he makes a face that is meant to look like a Basset Hound and says, "Are you talkin' to me?" We all stare at him blankly and then proceed to clean the windows without comment.

Suddenly, he strains his eyes to see through the windows and presses his finger to my section of glass, creating an annoying fingerprint. A bunch of women carrying infants walk by, and Nathan shakes his head in disapproval. "You see? Babies. That's why I always use a condom. And if the girl looks dirty, I use two. Belt and braces."

I scoff. "I'd feel bad for any poor sod who'd ever be impregnated with _your_ demonic spawn," I say, "I think it'd be worse for the girl than it would be for you."

"Be that as it may," he says without making any attempt to dispute my assertion, "I'm not exactly keen on the prospect of paying child support."

"Like you even could…"

"Again with the sass! You might be a rare and deadly _three_-condom kind of girl…The thought of having to put up with you for eighteen years? Gives me the shivers…"

"That implies that you'd even be able to have sex with me in the first place," I note dryly.

Nathan makes an offended face, but I change the subject before he can say anything else. "Where are Curtis and Alisha?" I ask naively.

"They're shaggin' again, I fink," Kelly answers evenly.

Then, the girl that was talking to Curtis a few days ago appears and walks through the door. Nathan whistles at her, and it's clear from her posture that she is not amused.

"Hey, have you seen Curtis?" she asks us.

"Who are you?" Kelly asks.

"I'm his girlfriend."

We all have identical, shocked expressions.

"Do you know where he is?" she presses.

Nathan garbles some incoherent babble before arriving at, "He's been arrested."

"What for?" she asks worriedly. God, by the look on her face I can already tell that I'm not going to like her. Team Alisha all the way!

"For exposin' himself," Nathan answers.

"What?"

"Yeah, flashin'."

"At some – er – scouts," I add, keeping up with the lie.

"Try tyin' a knot in that!" he jokes. "Or maybe you have?" At the look on her face after this comment, I have to actively repress a roar of laughter.

"No," she says forcefully, "Very funny. Well when you see him, will you tell him to call Sam?"

She then leaves and we all look at each other smugly. "She seems nice," quips Nathan as he watches her walk away.

"What's that about?" I ask finally.

They all shrug. "I want nothin' to do wit' it," Kelly says as we return to our cleaning.

After a while, Curtis and Alisha return for break and Curtis goes to the stairwell. Nathan follows him, and Simon goes off to god-knows-where. I sit with Kelly and Alisha as we sip our sodas.

"So what's the deal with you and Nathan?" Alisha asks after a few minutes, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Yeah, wot is that?" Kelly adds curiously.

"What do you mean?" I counter. I know it's futile; I can already feel a blush creeping across my face.

"Don't play dumb," Alisha scolds. "So are you two like, fucking?"

"What? No!"

She scrutinizes me, looking me up and down. "Mhm."

"Seriously, we're not," I insist.

"She's tellin' the truth."

"Can you please _not_ do that?" The notion of someone being able to read my thoughts was a stress that I certainly did not need.

"Sorry."

"Do you _want_ to fuck him?" Alisha asks as a follow up.

"No."

"Now even I can tell that's a lie," she replies.

"Look, it's complicated."

"Is there someone else?"

"No."

"Then why's it complicated?" asks Kelly.

"Because I don't know, I don't want to get hurt, and he's obviously not the type to take anything seriously."

This seems to be a satisfactory response, for we go back to talking about Curtis and Kelly's dickhead of an ex-fiancé. Soon, Nathan rejoins us.

"Hello, ladies," he says. "What are you gossiping about? Anything juicy?"

"Piss off," I say.

"Fine. _I've_ got something juicy, but I'm not gonna tell you after that little display," he snaps, "I'm goin' out for a smoke, then, since I'm clearly not wanted."

Kelly and Alisha look at each other knowingly, and, once he's out of sight, Kelly says, "Y'know, 'e _really_ wants ta shag ya."

I'm caught off guard, but I'm able to scrounge up a response. "And? Last time I checked, loads of guys want to shag loads of girls and it doesn't really have anything to do with fancying them."

"Oh he fancies you all right," Alisha snorts.

"Yeah, 'e thinks about it _constantly_. It's dead annoying, it is," Kelly says. "I wish you two'd just get it over with so 'e'd stop walkin' around like such a horny bugger all the time."

I smirk, but this doesn't really change my opinion of the situation in any way. "I think he'd walk around like a horny bugger all the time regardless of how often he got laid," I note.

The other two girls laugh at the truth in the statement, and we leave it at that.

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><p><strong>Author's note: Hey, guys I hope you liked it. I'm kind of getting desperate for reviews because I have no idea what anyone thinks of this or what I should improve on or what you'd like to see more of or anything. So if you're reading this, if it's not too much trouble, <em>please<em> review. Thanks! :-)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note: Oh my goodness, thank you SO MUCH to to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I'm really touched that you guys heard my pleas of desperation. I hope you all like this chapter!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

The next morning, when we're scraping posters off columns at the community center, I see Nathan and Curtis talking. I quickly surmise that yesterday he must have gone to talk to him about the "Sam" crisis, and was now asking follow up questions.

"That's really annoyin', y'know," Kelly, who's working across from me, says suddenly.

"What do you mean?"

"You're always lookin' at 'im all wistful-like. You should just tell 'im that you fancy 'im and let that be that," she advises sagaciously.

"I am _not_ going to do that," I reply in disbelief.

"Suit yaself," she shrugs, "But you'd both be better off. It's frustratin' ta see ya both like this. The sexual tension is killin' me."

"There is no sexual tension," I scoff. I think perhaps I've never told a more blatant lie, and she knows it.

"Wotevah."

Simon runs off suspiciously, and soon after Nathan randomly bursts out saying, "D'you hear that?"

There is absolutely no unusual noise, and we all look at him strangely.

"Hear what?" I reply.

"A baby crying," he answers softly.

I furrow my brow in confusion, as does everyone else.

"Wot are ya talkin' about?" Kelly demands.

He doesn't answer, but abruptly runs into the community center. We wait a minute, before I ask, "Should we follow him?"

"Nah," Curtis dismisses.

Another moment later, Simon comes running out. We all look at him expectantly, but I know it's got something to do with Nathan.

"I think I've just seen Nathan stealing a baby," he announces.

Now this, I _have _to see. We quickly walk inside, Simon leading the way.

"_Why_ would he take a baby?" Alisha wonders aloud.

"If he gets caught, he's screwed," Curtis chimes in. "Call the prick!" he orders me.

I quickly take out my phone and scroll through my contacts. Sure enough, there he is, entered in as "Nathan the sexiest man on earth." He must have taken my mobile without my knowledge. I put the phone to my ear and it goes straight to his voicemail.

"It's turned off," I tell everyone.

"We need ta find 'im," Kelly says.

Curtis and I lead the group, and eventually we spot him standing a story above us. Sure enough, he's holding a baby… And… singing to it?

"What's he doin'?" Curtis demands. We all rush off to get to him before he can do anything stupid – like drop the baby over the ledge.

When we finally reach him, I shriek, "What the _fuck_ are you doing?"

"Hey, there's no need for language like that," he reprimands, covering the baby's ears. "Don't listen to her, that's a very bad word and she should know better."

"You're acting like a psychopath!" I exclaim in disbelief.

"Give us the baby," Curtis instructs calmly.

"You're not taking him!" Nathan protests, clutching the little boy to his chest. "He needs me!"

"I think he's gone mental," says Simon.

"I think you're right," I agree solemnly. There's no other explanation for his behavior.

"That baby," Kelly says suddenly, "'e's got a power. 'E's makin' you fink you're the dad."

"He needs a dad. I know what that's like." Oh God… This isn't going anywhere pretty. "My dad was never around," he continues, "Look at what it did to me… I'm gonna be his daddy."

I don't think my jaw could drop further than it already has. "_You_?" I demand in disbelief.

"You're gonna be its dad?" Curtis asks.

"You're 'omeless," snaps Kelly, "You're livin' in the community center."

"You've got no money, no job," Curtis continues.

"You're poor," says Alisha.

"You act like a child yourself," I pipe in.

"And you've got a criminal record," Simon finishes.

"You can't even look after yourself," I say.

"Social services is gonna take one look at you," Curtis quips.

"Seriously, the kid deserves better, way better," Alisha states.

"Him and his mum can come and live with me at the community center," he says, completely delusional. "I can get free food from the vending machines. I'll steal booze from the kitchen, I'll steal from other babies, I'll go to the park and forage for nuts and berries!"

Jesus Christ. I would have laughed if the situation were not so serious. We can do nothing but look at him in horror. However, by some miracle, his expression changes abruptly and he seems to snap out of whatever trance he'd been in. He looks down at the baby in shock and disgust.

"Why am I holding this baby?" he wonders, stretching his arms out. We all take a step forward, preparing for the worst. "I'm not bein' sexist, but one of you girls needs to take this off me before I drop it on its head."

I step forward and eagerly take the baby from his arms. Crisis averted. When I touch him, I feel that he's desperately missing his mum. "It's all right," whisper, "We're taking you to her…"

We walk back inside the community center, and the distraught mother comes running. "Why have you got my baby?" she demands in terror, taking him from my arms.

"Did you take him?" she angrily accuses Nathan.

"No, no," he stutters.

"You stay away from him, alright! You stay away from him!"

"Chill out, he didn't take him!" I interject. "We found him outside, we were just bringing him back! Look, he's fine."

She inspects her child and sadly asks, "Why do you keep crawling off? Hm? Even he thinks I'm a shit mum, it's as if I'm not enough for him…"

"You should take him to see his dad," Nathan pipes in.

"Yeah, well he's not interested."

"Trust me," he continues, "As soon as he sees him, he'll want to be his dad again. I promise you."

The woman smiled. "Yeah, well thanks for bringing him back," she said.

When they were gone, Nathan turns to me and says, "Well, that was weird as fuck."

"You're telling me… I never want to see you like that. Ever again."

"Yeah, you're not the only one… I don't know what came over me – I can't even remember it."

"That's probably for the best."

We were both silent for a moment.

"So I know you said no to a drink," he starts slyly, "But what if I take you up on that dinner option?"

I had been clear about it being all right, so I couldn't exactly go back on my offer now. I hadn't really expected him to take me seriously, though… "Erm, sure."

"Brilliant! What are you cooking?"

"Hm… How about pasta... How does fettuccine alfredo sound?"

"Whoa, slow down there, Gordon Ramsay. That's pretty fancy."

I smirk. "Well I _am_ half Italian…"

"Are you? You don't look it."

He's right, I suppose. My skin is very pale and I've got blue eyes. "I've got brown hair," I try. "And I did say only half. My last name's Marino – doesn't get much more Italian than that."

"Your parents named you Marnie Marino? That's fucking cruel. You sound like a mafia princess."

He's right, my name is unfortunate. But I've learned to deal with it. "They could have named me Marina Marino," I reason.

"Is that even worse? I can't decide…"

On our way home, he asks, "So your mum taught you how to cook then, did she?"

"Not exactly. My dad's the one who was Italian, not my mum. My mum can't cook shit, so I was always the one in charge of doing that sort of thing. I never minded, though. It's relaxing. But I don't usually have time for it." I looked at him and saw that he was obviously not listening.

"So this," he starts abruptly, "Is this like – a _date_?"

"No," I scoff, not elaborating any further. To be entirely honest, I don't know what this is supposed to be. But I certainly can't let him think it's a date, that much I do know.

Soon, we're at my flat. Nathan stands at the small island in the kitchen, looking around the room and watching me cook. I don't ask for his help because I know he'll just get in the way.

"How d'you afford this place?" he asks, "Do you have a job?"

"My mum gave me some money when she kicked me out, but it's gonna run out soon… Then, I'll have to find a job, I suppose. As you can see, this place isn't exactly expensive. I'm sure I can work as a barmaid or something."

"Huh."

"Do you want a drink?" I ask as I open the fridge.

"What've you got?"

"White wine," I say.

"Classy! Alright, I'll have a bit. When in Rome, as they say…"

I take out two glasses and pour the wine into them.

"So," I say slowly, handing him his glass, "Is it true, what you said?"

"What?" he asks.

"About your dad not being around…"

His pained expression tells me that he doesn't remember admitting this to everyone. He gathers his thoughts, before saying, "So what if it is?" His tone is different than it usually is – tougher, more bristly. This is one of only times I have ever seen him serious. It's a bit scary, the way his demeanor has changed so abruptly. I can't help but feel that I'm glimpsing something he's tried very hard to conceal. He looks around the room, anywhere but at me. He then takes a breath and says, "Moving on…" His voice is only a shadow of what it usually is; the toughness remains, but he's disguised it a bit better.

I don't say anything, and the sound of my whisk hitting the side of the mixing bowl echoes eerily throughout the room. "Why do you get like that?" I ask after several drawn out moments of silence.

"Like what?"

I pour the fettuccine into the boiling pot of water on the stove and say, "Whenever I ask you anything about your family, you get really cagey."

He thinks for a moment, genuinely thinks. It's rare that he ever considers his words before they fly out of his mouth, so I anxiously await his response.

"It's not really important," he says finally. It's a bit of an anticlimax.

"Obviously it is." I can't see him because I'm stirring the pasta, and I think this makes him more comfortable.

"My parents – they hate me. They actually despise me."

"I'm sure that's not true – "

"I'm just a fuck up," he continues, "I honest-to-god fuck up. I used to try to make them happy, but I would always ruin it and they would always be so… _disappointed_. Eventually I just stopped trying and the state of disappointment became constant."

I tut sympathetically. "Family is an odd thing," I say after a while. "They're people that you wouldn't normally interact with, but you're forced together anyway. Lots of times personalities clash. Your dad… I know how you feel, about your dad not being around. Hell, I have no fucking idea where mine even is – he could be back in fucking Italy for all I know. But you can't think that it's your fault that it's that way. Even if you fuck up, your family is supposed to be there for you. That's the whole point of them." I strain the pasta in the colander, before continuing, "What about your mum? Did you ever go talk to her?"

"Yeah, I told her I was happy that she found someone."

"That's good."

"Yeah, she even offered to have me move back in."

I turn to look at him for the first time in several minutes. His eyes are fixed on the gray counter-top, his long eyelashes casting a shadow on his cheekbones. "Why didn't you take her offer?" I ask.

"She's better off without me." He finally looks up upon feeling my eyes on him. "I think it's the first non-selfish thing I've ever done. At least now she can be happy and not worry about me screwing everything up."

I pour the pasta into a serving bowl and stir in the sauce. "Can you get a couple of plates out of the cupboard?" I ask Nathan, pointing to the cabinet. He would have a much easier time reaching them than I would. He wordlessly does as I ask, and I then spoon some pasta into his plate.

As we sit down at the small table to eat, he says, "That thing with the baby…"

"Hm? Yeah?" I interrupt loudly. I know he's trying to thank me, but I'm not going to make it easy on him.

"I just wanted to say… Er – thanks for saving my arse."

I beam at him as he takes a rather large bite of the pasta. I wait for a sarcastic comment, but instead he says, "Mother of God, this is actually really good."

"Thanks," I say simply.

"No, like, _really_ good. Like the sort of 'can I eat here every night' type of good."

"You're not going to flatter me into shagging you," I say cynically.

"Well, it was worth a shot…" he replies in defeat, twirling another large section of fettuccine around his fork.

He's smiling and I'm smiling and at one point we lock eyes with one another. When we realize what we're doing, be both stop smiling and break eye contact uncomfortably. I get up, pouring more wine in both our glasses… I'm going to need several drinks to get through this night, I can already tell.

Later, he helps me wash the dishes and clean the kitchen, when we move our little powwow to the sofa. I take the bottle of wine with us. We talk and Nathan mostly acts like a prick and is cute sometimes and eventually I notice that it's completely dark outside; I check the clock on the microwave and see that it's nearly midnight.

He notices me looking at the time and says, "I should probably be going, huh?"

"Yeah," I say, my mind fuzzy and warm from nearly half a bottle of wine.

He stands up and brushes off his pant-legs. "Well, back to the community center…"

I bite my lip guiltily as he helps me up from the sofa. I feel sorry that he has to walk all the way back there to sleep on the floor of that horribly institutionalized building. I think that he might stay here and I can tell from the way he's staring at me that he's thinking it too.

"You – er," I start.

He cocks his head to the side expectantly.

"You could stay on the sofa if you like," I finally manage.

He raises his eyebrows. "Will we be having _sex_ on the sofa? Because it makes no difference to me, but if you've got a perfectly good bed we might as well utilize it."

"No one will be having sex," I state firmly. "I just thought you might not want to stay at the community center."

"That's unfortunate – about the sex, I mean… But I do suppose it'd be nice to stay in an actual flat for once…"

"Okay," I say awkwardly, going to my closet to get a pillow and some blankets.

When I return, I see that he's kicked his shoes off and is now sprawled languorously across the sofa. "You sure made yourself a home," I comment, my voice not nearly as sharp as it usually is… Oh, alcohol, the wonders you provide... Or, rather, the undesirable situations you facilitate…

He jumps to his feet and takes the bundle from my hands. We stand facing each other, both unsure of what to say. It appears that all of his wisecracks have momentarily failed him, and I am not above chewing nervously on my lower lip. This motion draws his attention, and his line of vision shifts from my eyes to my mouth; he now licks his own lips. Our faces begin to gravitate toward one another (rather, Nathans' face begins to lean towards mine). Luckily, he's much taller than me and this process is slow. I smell the wine on his breath and I'm sure he can smell it on mine. My entire body is beginning to overheat, which I know to be a very bad omen. I back away slightly and clear my throat. "Well – uh – goodnight, then," I stammer quietly.

He blinks the lust out of his eyes and stands up straight. "Uh, yeah…" he says, somewhat dazed. His voice is huskier than usual, and he too clears his throat. Obviously things did not turn out the way he'd expected them to. "G'night," he says finally, back to normal.

I go to my bedroom, change into my pajamas, and fall back onto my mattress. I honestly do not know why I'd pulled away. I suspect it was because I truly did like him, and I didn't want this to be a one-off fuck. Now, I'm certainly no blushing virgin, but I'm also not a complete skank. Plus, I've already gone through the whole guys-only-using-you-for-sex phase of my life, and, because I'm clearly mentally derranged, I always seem to find guys who have the uncanny ability to crush my self-esteem. God knows, I didn't need another dickhead making me feel like shit.

I know that if I'd kissed him – if I'd allowed him that one first step – I probably wouldn't have been able to stop myself from sleeping with him. Usually I'm not so attracted to the guys I go out with, but, for some godforsaken reason, Nathan really gets me hot and bothered. I know my self-control might be jeopardized if I allow him any leeway. So, it's best to just cut it off before it gets to that point… Right?

**xOx**

I wake up as I usually do, to my alarm clock beeping annoyingly. It takes me several seconds to process my surroundings and what time it is. However, after a moment, I quickly remember who is sleeping on my sofa: Nathan. I groan and stretch my arms over my head. I think about waking him up, but I suppose it will take me much longer to get ready and I might as well shower first. I hastily jump in the shower, change, and do my makeup, before walking out of my bedroom to see that he is still fast asleep. I take a moment to study him (not in a creepy way, okay?); it's the first time I've ever seen him not talk for any extended period. He looks very much unlike himself, his features calm and relaxed. I had expected him to snore grotesquely, but he is actually quite quiet. However, it seems that he moves around a lot in his sleep, as evidenced by the pillows and blankets on the floor and the awful state that his hair is in.

"Nathan," I whisper, rustling him gently. "Wake up."

It doesn't take much to snap him out of his slumber, and his eyes shoot open immediately. He looks incredibly confused as his pupils focus and he realizes where exactly he is. He stretches out exaggeratedly, like a cat.

"Mornin'," he rasps, his voice thick with sleep. He has bags under his eyes and he seems to be having a hard time adjusting to the light.

"Good morning. We need to get going. We have to be at the community center in three-quarters of an hour."

"M'kay," he says, standing up unsteadily. "Where's the loo?"

I point him in the direction of my bathroom and pray to God that he doesn't get himself into trouble. If he messes up my things, I will kill him without hesitation…

"Do you want some cereal?" I call from the kitchen.

"What types have you go?" he shouts back in response. I hear the shower running.

"Cocoa Krispies and Cheerios. Are you taking a shower?"

"Yeah, do you mind, love? And I'll have Cocoa Krispies."

I don't say anything to his audacious response, but merely take out two bowls and pour Cocoa Krispies into them. Nathan makes quick work of his shower, and he comes out ten minutes later, smelling like my shampoo. His hair, although it's wet, is starting to curl and I can't help but ogle at the sight. Maybe I have a hair fetish or something (God, that would be unfortunate), but there's just something about that mop of brown ringlets that really gets to me. I hand him a carton of milk, having already finished my breakfast.

"Thanks," he says shortly.

After several seconds of silence, I comment, "You're certainly on your best behavior…" It's not often that he goes for more than a few seconds without talking, that's for sure.

"I'm not really a morning person," he grumbles, shoving his spoon in his mouth.

I eye him skeptically and rest my chin atop my hands as I wait for him to finish eating. He's done quickly and we then head off to the community center. Luckily, we're the first to get there and no one sees us arrive together – we wouldn't want them to get the wrong idea, would we? The last thing they need is tangible evidence that I fancy Nathan, that's for sure…

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: Hope everyone liked it! What do you think of the pacing of everything so far? Too fast? Too slow? I'd love to hear from you all :-)<strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's note: Thank you so much to those of you who reviewed the last chapter! I really appreciate your feedback :-) I hope you all like this chapter!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

When it's time for break, the six of us sit on a bench by the lake. The sky is overcast and it's not particularly nice out, but there are a group of people our age gathered by the grass and they seem to be involved in some purity cult thing; it's utterly fascinating, and we're all too enthralled by their ridiculous stories to go inside. It's not every day that you see these sorts of people wandering around this part of town, let me tell you...

After one girl recounts her sexual escapades and her disrespectful names for her mother, Nathan points his cigarette at the group and remarks, "That – that ain't normal."

"She went to my school," Alisha says. "This one time she's doing this boy, you know, in the back of her dad's car, yeah," she continues rapidly, "She gets off him and _sits_ on the gear stick. She's on there, for like twenty minutes, literally –" She clenches her teeth and starts making groaning noises as we all watch in revulsion, unable to look away.

When Alisha finishes her display, Nathan says, "Try doing that in your driving test – you are _definitely _getting a fail… Or a pass? And maybe some kind of internal injury."

"_Maybe_?" I snort.

"Yeah, she was a proper slag," Alisha states.

A girl with hair the same color as mine and a thick fringe stands up and addresses the other Jesus freaks.

"It's the same wit' them girls in my estate," Kelly adds. "No one's even gettin' pregnant anymore… Wot about your friends?" she asks Simon.

"I believe that's generally referred to as a paedophile ring," Nathan interjects sarcastically.

"I'm not a paedophile," Simon insists.

"Yeah? You'd screw your own sister for a slice of cheese."

My brows knit together at the randomness of the statement. "Nathan, stop it, that's disgusting!" I snap.

"I don't even like cheese," Simon replies.

"Well, that makes it even worse, you sick bastard."

"Maybe she's done sitting on her dad's gear stick," Curtis interrupts abruptly.

"That sounds… wrong," I say.

Nathan looks at me with a grimace. "Who's bein' disgusting now, you little perv!" He tries to shove me off the bench, but to no avail.

More people start to walk over the to the group, and Nathan summons them to our bench. "Oi, you," he says, "Why are you all dressed like retards?"

I quickly disguise my laughter as a cough when the guy replies, "There's a meeting in the community center tonight; you guys should come along and find out… All of you."

"Right. Cool," Nathan replies sarcastically. "See ya there, buddy!"

He shoots Nathan a thumbs-up as we all stare at them, utterly perplexed.

"He used to be a right head-case," Curtis says in disbelief. "This is weird…"

"You're telling me," I say, standing up to head back towards the community center.

**xOx**

Strangely, the probation worker never shows up. Simon thinks that she's gone to Greece on holiday, but Curtis suspects that something else is up. "They would have sent someone else to cover her," he reasons. I can't help but agree… Something's not right.

"Oh no, what are we going to do with ourselves," Nathan laments sardonically as he bounces a football off the top of his shoe. "We should call up probation headquarters and ask them to send someone ASAP!"

Alisha gives Curtis a seductive look and stands abruptly; he follows her eagerly and I know that they have – yet again – gone off to "shag."

Out of nowhere, Nathan spikes the ball dangerously close to Simon's head, causing all of us to flinch at the loud noise. Simon's clearly startled, and Nathan looks at him like the cat that killed the canary. The quieter of the two stands and throws a cardboard box at his antagonist, which Nathan is able to dodge. They face each other rigidly for a moment; Simon looks as if he wants to murder Nathan, who's grinning obnoxiously. "Well, this is intense," he taunts, breaking the moment.

Simon storms off.

"Nathan, don't," I plead as he puts the ball down and kicks it at the door just after Simon leaves.

Kelly scowls at him. "I've 'ad enough o' this." She then proceeds to take out a pack of cigarettes and walk outside.

"And then there were two," Nathan says theatrically.

I roll my eyes and also decide to go elsewhere.

"Aw, c'mon," he calls to me as I walk towards the vending machines, "I thought we were mates!"

I flip him off before I walk through the door.

As I'm sipping my soda, it dawns on me that I don't need to be wearing this atrocious jumpsuit. So, I head to the locker room to change. When I get there, Kelly is talking to Simon; they both seem to have realized the same thing just before me, as they are now dressed in their normal clothes.

"You just need ta ignore Nathan, 'e's a dick," Kelly advises. "'e doesn't care wot anyone says ta 'im – 'e finks it's the same for everyone."

"It's not though, is it," Simon counters.

"He's just trying to be funny," I pipe in, "He doesn't really mean it."

"But it's not funny," Simon replies heatedly. "I'm not like him. I don't find it amusing."

"Hey, man, don't let it get to you. No one believes any of the things he says about you. I'll talk to him, okay? I'll tell him to leave you alone."

He and Kelly lock eyes and I think maybe I should leave. It looks like they're in the middle of something… private? Weird. They're not a thing, are they? That would be the most awkward couple I've ever seen, that's for sure. As I'm on my way out the door, I hear her say, "Wot are you talkin' about?" I stick around, interested to see where this is going.

"Nothing," he answers tersely.

Simon walks past me and catches me eavesdropping; I look around innocently with my bundle of clothes in hand. Shit. Well, whatever. I was only trying to be nice.

**xOx**

The next day, I walk into the community center to see Nathan on the phone in Sally's office, flipping through a magazine. I press my face against the glass and squint to see that he's calling a sex line. I bang on the window, but, before I can go inside, someone I've never seen before comes up behind me.

"Excuse me," he says politely, opening the door. Both my and Nathan's eyes widen in nervousness.

"I'm looking for Sally," he states.

"Who?"

I resist the urge to groan. Nathan knows _damn well_ who Sally is, the little prick.

"She's a probation worker," the man clarifies.

"Oh," Nathan says convincingly, "Haven't seen her, man. Can I take a message?"

"You're all right," he replies. He looks a bit suspicious, but Nathan is doing an excellent job acting the part of secretary.

"Okay," Nathan says, picking up the phone as the man walks past me. When he's out of sight, I enter the room.

"You could have gone into acting," I comment. I take a seat on the desk in front of him and rest my feet on the arm of his chair.

"I know, with a face like mine?"

"That's not what I meant."

"But it's true, though, isn't it?"

"No, don't get cocky."

He smirks and eyes me up and down. "You're lookin' pretty cute," he says after several beats of silence. "Always wanted to shag on a desk…"

I push his chair with my feet, sending him rolling backwards. He starts to shuffle back towards me, but we're distracted when Alisha walks by sporting some ungodly outfit that my gran might wear. We both freeze and our jaws drop.

"What. The. Fuck," I manage.

We burst out of the office, causing a lot of commotion. She turns and waves cheerily to us. "Good morning," she calls.

We rejoin Kelly and Simon, who are both lounging in wheelchairs.

"Did you see Alisha?" Nathan demands.

"Yeah, Curtis's just gone to talk wit' 'er. Wot was up with that?" Kelly exclaims.

"She looked like those people from yesterday," I note.

Simon seems very pensive, and I can't help but get the feeling that – yet again – he knows something we don't. Soon, we see Curtis come into view and he and Nathan disappear into the men's toilets; we follow them without thinking.

Once we're inside, however, and Nathan starts to take a piss, Kelly and I turn around in dismay.

"What the fuck is going on?" I say as I frantically shield my eyes.

"I dunno," Curtis answers, "But it's got something to do with that lot we saw yesterday. She's sayin' all this weird stuff about sex and that. She said she saving herself until she's ready to make a proper commitment."

"It's a sad day for all of us when a bird like that decides to pull up her knickers," I hear Nathan say.

"You realize that's my girlfriend you're talking about," Curtis states acidly. I understand that Nathan can be an annoying little dickwad, but I can't help but feel that Curtis sometimes gets irrationally angry with him.

"And I feel you pain…"

"Wash your hands before you touch me!" he snaps.

"'ave ya finished?" Kelly calls finally.

"The beast is back in his cage," he answers, "He is sleeping, shh."

"I definitely think it's those people from yesterday," I say, ignoring him.

"Yeah," Curtis agrees, "She's dressin' like that and everything. They did something to her."

"Wot, like brainwashin' or somefin'?"

"It's the storm," Simon says quietly.

"How do you know that?" Nathan demands. "You don't know that."

"When weird stuff happens, it's always the storm… Haven't you worked that out yet?"

"He's got a point," Curtis agrees.

"Did you just suddenly grow a set of balls?"

"I've always had a set of balls," Simon retorts, "You've just never seen them."

At this, I can't help but snicker. "That is about the gayest thing I've ever heard," Nathan laughs.

"Shut up! We need ta find out wot's goin' on with 'er!" Kelly insists.

"She's right," I interject. "We need to get to the bottom of this."

"Alright, here's what we do," Simon starts, "We need to come back here tonight, when they're having their meeting and find a way to isolate Alisha."

"I'm on it!" Nathan exclaims, "I live here!"

"Okay," I agree.

"Yeah, I'm in," Curtis says.

"Me too," Kelly adds.

"Good," Simon replies. "Until then, we just have to wait…"

**xOx**

Kelly, Simon, Curtis, and I leave the community center at around four. Simon goes home, and Curtis and Kelly go to a pub to get dinner. Feeling generous, I decide to stop off and get something to bring to Nathan. Even he shouldn't have to eat food out of a vending machine every night. I get a pizza and soon make my way back to the community center. I see him on the balcony, making his "bed" and humming to himself.

"Yoohoo," I whistle from below.

He looks down in surprise.

"I've brought food," I say.

He grins at me. "C'mon up, my fair lady."

I climb the steps and see that he's waiting to meet me at the top. "Welcome to my humble abode," he announces with a flourish. He takes the pizza box from my hands and sits on his "bed," motioning for me to take a seat across from him.

I'm about two slices in when I decide to make good on my word to Simon. "You know," I say after I swallow, "Why do you tease Simon so much?"

"I'm just screwin' around," he mumbles with his mouth full.

"It's not just screwing around to him," I say. "He's got other stuff going on. You should just knock it off, okay?"

His eyes search mine thoughtfully. "I know I've asked this before," he starts slowly, "But you can tell me, honest… Do you love him?"

I sigh exasperatedly and roll my eyes. "_No_, will you stop? Just because I'm a decent human being doesn't mean I'm in love with everyone I'm nice to. I know that's a hard concept for you to grasp, apparently, but I'm telling the truth."

"Jesus, touchy, I'll leave your boyfriend alone," he replies snippily.

I shake my head in futility and turn so that I'm overlooking the lobby, my legs dangling over the edge through the railing. When I shift, I realize that I'm sitting on something. "… the fuck is this?" I ask, taking a crumpled, navy-blue sock out from under me.

Nathan tries to keep a poker face, but it just comes off as an evil smirk.

"Why is it crusty?" I demand hysterically, tossing it away from me. "Who the fuck sleeps with a crusty sock in bed with them? That's nasty!"

He's silent for several seconds, the smirk never leaving his face. "Alright, yes," he admits finally, "It's my wank sock."

I glower at him in horror and suppress the urge to retch. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me. I just… no. What the hell? Use some fucking tissue, for God's sake!"

"That requires planning, man, who's that organized?"

"Aw God, that's disgusting..."

"Look, you've just knocked one out, right, you're lyin' there, you're feeling cheap and deflated, there's a pool of rapidly cooling spunk on your stomach, you're looking around for something to mop up with – Oh, hello, what's this? It's a sock. Job done. Thank you."

"Maybe that's your power," I suggest sarcastically, "Jerking off."

"I am _very_ good at it," he agrees.

"Seriously, though, do you have any clue what it could be?"

"I give up. I obviously haven't got one – it's bullshit. Where's the logic, huh?"

"Eh, it's not so bad," I reply. "Mine's nothing special. And it could have always turned out to be something terrible, like Alisha's…"

"You know why it is, though? It's because you can't improve on perfection." He raises his arm and flexes his bicep. He's very skinny, and I grin at the ridiculousness of it. I go to touch his muscle, but he stops me. "Look, but don't touch," he says, kissing his arm. I put my palm on him anyway, and suddenly I feel very horny – like, beyond anything I've ever felt before.

I pull my hand away, like I've been burned, and the feeling subsides. I stick my tongue to my cheek and give him a knowing look.

"Aw shit, you did that thing again, didn't you?"

"Are you _always_ this horny?"

"I'm a man, we think about shaggin' everyone all the time," he insists.

"Gee, thanks."

"Ugh, you know I didn't mean it like that."

"How do you ever get laid," I ask with genuine curiosity. "You're probably the least romantic person I have ever met in my entire life; you're like the complete antithesis of everything romantic. I come up here, trying to be nice, with a pizza and everything, and I find out I'm sitting on your fucking wank sock. Seriously? How do you even manage to fuck up so badly? It's a wonder you've ever gotten anyone to sleep with you _ever_."

"That's a little harsh," he says, feigning offense. "But to answer your question, I get girls really, really drunk." Surprisingly, he seems somewhat serious and just a tad ashamed. I don't make eye contact because it's too awkward. "So… Do you want to steal some booze?" he suggests eventually.

I mull the question over, my heart beating a mile a minute. _Fuck yes, do it!_ says one part of my brain. _Don't be a stupid bitch_," says the other.

"Alright," I finally answer.

He jumps up with a smile and helps me to my feet. We then make our way down to Sally's office. He's fiddling with the refrigerator, when suddenly the lights come on with a jolt. Thinking fast, we duck behind the desk. "So much for that…" Nathan mutters. The Jesus freaks walk by with a bunch of hostages, one of which we recognize as Curtis.

"Is it just me, or does this look really suspicious?" Nathan whispers as we see Alisha walk past.

They force the hostages to their knees and take the pillowcases off of their heads.

"We need to help Curtis," I hiss urgently, starting towards the door.

Before I can leave, however, Nathan grabs my hand and pulls me back. "No, no, there's too many of them," he insists, "And I'm not very good at fighting – never have been…" I look down at how he's clutching my hand in his larger one and can't find it in me to protest.

We watch as the girl with the fringe stands up and starts addressing them. Then, she pins something on Curtis, who grins at her; they hug.

"Did she just… virginize him?"

"She just pinned a ribbon on him – they all have them."

"One of these ribbons?" he asks, taking a handful out of the box next to us.

"Fuck, what do we do?" I ask.

"We have to wait until tomorrow… It's too risky to go in now."

"Yeah, Simon will know what to do."

"Oh yeah, I'm sure your boyfriend's got a great plan," he snapped with a frown. I don't bother correcting him, because it dawns on my then that he's _jealous_, and this makes me feel infinitely better about the whole situation. Maybe he doesn't _just_ want to shag me, after all…

**xOx**

The next day, Simon leads us to an area where the Jesus freaks are burning a multitude of illicit items, ranging from drugs to dildos. We watch from the safety of the shadows, careful to stay hidden.

"Have you seen Curtis?" Simon asks.

"They got him last night in the community center," Nathan answers. "It was some spooky shit."

The same girl with the fringe is now talking to a camera crew. "It's 'er," Kelly suddenly informs us, "she's doin' this to 'em."

"We should ask someone for help," I suggest. "Maybe the probation worker's back?"

"That's good enough for me," Kelly agrees as we barge into the community center. Much to our chagrin, however, Sally's office is still empty. "Ugh, where is she?"

"There's never a probation worker around when you need one!" Nathan exclaims. "_You_," he points to Simon, "you were sucking up to her last week – where is she?"

"I don't know," he answers. He flattens his hair nervously with the heel of his hand and I can't help but suspect that he's hiding something.

"We need to tell someone wot she's doin'," Kelly says.

"Oh yeah, 'Help, everyone's stopped taking drugs and urinating in the street!' Who are we gonna tell, this is every policeman and parent's wet dream… C'mon, Barry, you're good at this stuff, think of something."

"Who's Barry?" Simon demands.

Nathan makes a confused face. "You are," he states.

"Oh my God, I'm going to kill you," I mutter. "His name is Simon, you dick!" I wonder if Nathan genuinely has trouble remembering people's names, or if he knows that not knowing someone's name is the ultimate insult and therefore does it to bait them. Perhaps the latter reason is a bit more diabolical than anything Nathan's intellect is really capable of, but I can't help but suspect that he's cleverer than he lets on. It's easy to come off as stupid if everyone _expects_ you to be stupid, I suppose.

"Is it?" he questions innocently.

The look on poor Simon's face is devastating; he's radiating many different emotions, hurt and anger among them. Although, he's primarily upset because Nathan's labeled him as an insignificant wallflower, as I expect other people have been doing his entire life.

"I thought it was Barry," Nathan continues heartlessly. "Sorry, man."

"With Curtis n' Alisha gone it's down to os," Kelly interrupts. "No one else is gonna do shit… We need ta get 'er away from 'ere. We need ta find out wot they've done to 'er."

"What about her power, we can't touch her," Simon reminds us, somewhat recovered from his spat with Nathan.

"What if that virtue bitch shows up," the curly-haired Irishman interjects. "She's vexing them with some kind of Darren Brown voodoo mind shit… We need to gear up."

Oh God, I don't like the sound of this…

**xOx**

By gear up, Nathan means that we're all meant to wear absurd, neon-yellow rubber gloves and earphones. As I put my white iPod earbuds in, I select a Crystal Castles playlist… Seems appropriate for a time like this… We all then have to wait for Nathan to choose the perfect song, after which point we exit the locker room.

We catch Alisha in the hallway; she's walking into a storage closet.

"We'll take 'er out through the fire exit," Kelly instructs, "You boys go around back, make sure nobody's there. Don't screw up!"

"I won't," Nathan dismisses as he and Simon follow her command. "Let's do it."

When they're gone, Kelly and I creep towards Alisha. We quietly slink in the room and I lock the door behind us. As we approach her, she begins talking; I can't hear a word she's saying, but I see Nathan and Simon on the other side of the glass door. Kelly begins talking, too, but all I can see is her mouth moving wordlessly. Simon and Nathan begin banging on the window. Kelly and I make a move to grab Alisha, but she begins thrashing about. Then, I hear a banging on the other door – shit, they must be on to us.

"Nathan!" I scream, "Help us!"

By this point, Kelly's earbuds have fallen out and Alisha rips mine right out of my ears. We're able to keep her away from the door, but then I see a crowd encircling Nathan and Simon.

"Marnie, Kelly, they're coming for us!" Nathan yells from the other side of the glass. "Leave her!"

Kelly and I start to do as he says, but Alisha blocks our path. I'm able to hold off Alisha. "Go!" I tell Kelly, "I'll be fine! Just go!" She looks at me sadly as the banging on the door intensifies.

"We'll come back for ya," she assures me earnestly.

"Just go!" I say, holding Alisha back by her arms.

Then, I hear Nathan's voice once Kelly's outside. "What? No! What are you doing? We can't leave her!"

"We 'ave ta!" Kelly insists, "It's the only way!" She and Simon drag him away as he tries to force his way inside. I give him one sad smile as Curtis breaks down the door. Suddenly, I hear fringe-girl's voice: "You don't have to behave like this," she says in an ethereal tone, "You could do so much better."

Then, it's like I'm sucked from my body. Everything goes black.

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><p><strong>Author's note: Shit's about to get real! Please review! <strong>


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's note: Hey guys! Thanks so much to those of you who reviewed the last chapter! This one is different in that it's written in _Nathan's_ point of view. I hope you all enjoy it :-)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

**_(Nathan's POV)_**

After having been rescued by that mysterious masked prick on the bicycle, I can't help but look back in horror at what has just transpired. Now, if you think I am referring to the Jesus-zombies, then you are sorely mistaken. What I find deeply disturbing is that I've just put myself – my beautiful, precious self – in danger because of a _girl._ Barry and the other one literally had to haul me away from the door. Now, that's just unprecedented.

Sure, Marnie's a sexy little vixen with a tight arse and a nice pair of legs, but, for fuck's sake, why is she worth getting virginized for? She's not.

So why did I just do what I did?

Dammit, maybe I fancy her. Like, really fancy. Oh God, maybe I don't just want to shag her. Oh, Jesus, oh Christ. This is cataclysmic. This is _apocalyptic_.

I can't have _feelings_. Nathan Young does _not_ have _feelings_. The word itself gives me the shivers. I am immune! I am invincible! I do not fall prey to such trivial… matters.

But before I can even properly register what I'm doing, my fingers move to my mobile on their own accord.

"Hey, Marnie?" I say into her voicemail, "Where are you? Pick up your phone! I'm losing it, here! Call me back, yeah?" God, I sound like a whiny bitch. What the fuck is wrong with me? I don't care – I should just get out of here. I need to escape! I should just save myself and fuck the rest.

I walk through the parking garage and pretty soon I witness some poor sap get abducted by virtue-freaks for doing graffiti. Shit. I need to lay low, or I'm next…

I thinks over for a bit longer. Right now, it's down to me, Barry, and Kelly. And for all I know, those two could be virginized by now... Okay, that's it, I'm leaving. Gone. Done. Sayonara.

But, okay, fine. There's something I should do first. I should see Marnie. I should just go to her flat, give it one last shot. Maybe I can catch her alone and break her out of the virginization spell. Seems logical.

When I get there, I knock on the door and see that it's already cracked. Defying my better judgment (as I often do), I decide to just push it open and creep inside.

"Marnie?" I hiss cautiously, tiptoeing through the kitchen. She's nowhere to be seen, so I check her bedroom. There's a heap of bras and thongs on her bed that I can't resist going through. They're pretty risqué and the vast majority of them are leopard print… Good God, the thought of her in these –

"Nathan?" comes a voice from the door. Shit. Busted.

"Uh – Marnie?" I turn around to look at her and see that she's dressed in a purple cable-knit jumper and khakis. Oh God, _khakis_. Her extremely long hair is tied into a ponytail with a ribbon – a _ribbon_ – and her lovely blue eyes are dull.

"What are you doing?"

"Just – uh – erm – looking for you…! Oh no. What did they do to you?"

"Why are you in my bedroom?"

"Why is all this underwear on your bed, hm?" I counter with a question of my own.

"I'm throwing it out."

"What! That – that's a travesty! Why would you do such a thing," I demand, holding up an animal print bra with pink bows. She rips it from my grasp and stuffs it back into the pile of lingerie.

"Seriously, why are you there?"

"Look at you," I continue as if I hadn't heard her, "This… it's not right." I gesture to her granny-like outfit and she turns to look at herself in the mirror.

"I think I look nice," she replies. "It's a big improvement."

"Improvement? Bollocks! Remember when you used to wear those deliciously sheer white tank tops with a bit of lace from your bra showing? Now _that _was nice," I reminisce fondly. _Very nice, very nice indeed_.

"That was skanky," she snaps. "This is much better."

"It's not _you_, though!"

"That's the point. I was always dressing for boys and I let them use me. I wasn't confident in myself. I used to cuss all the time just so people would think I was tough, but really I was very fragile on the inside. I had terribly low self-esteem."

"Oh, c'mon! That's textbook stuff! Girls are pretty much _supposed_ to feel that way about themselves!"

"I'm happier now. I didn't like who I was."

I huff and puff, not knowing what to say. Shit, I really was awful at stuff like this. Girls and their intricacies – not my strong suit. "Well _I_ did," I finally blurt out, taking a couple of steps towards her. Maybe I can break her out of this… Maybe it's not too late. "I liked those sexy little tops and the way your hair kinda made you look like a Native American hippie and your swearin' and your no-bullshit attitude. Your clothes, okay, granted, I wouldn't take you home to see my mum in them, but they were like you! They were flirty but not too over-the-top and maybe just a tad profane. It was all… You. This – this isn't right… You're… not… _you_."

"Who are you to talk? You're homeless! You're a loser, you haven't accomplished anything with your life."

"There's no need to get personal!" I snap automatically. I already know that I'm a waste of space, and I certainly don't need anyone else telling me I am. Least of all her...

"We can _help_ you!"

I inspect her eyes for a moment. I wonder if she actually knows what she's saying, or if it's just a sort of animatronic response. Whatever the case, this is not the Marnie I knew. I hate it.

"I _never_ should have left you back there," I choke out. Oh god, the _emotions_. I can't do this. What the fuck. Why is this happening. "I shouldn't have left you, I'm sorry. I can't – you can't be like this." I grab her shoulders and force her to look at me, trying to make her understand. Her eyes are so… blank. It's like invasion of the body-snatchers or some shit. "_Please_, Marnie. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

I move my hands from her shoulders to the sides of her face and lean over so that we're the same height. God, she seems so short. So… small. Okay, here goes nothing. If this doesn't jolt her out of it, nothing will. Shit. Okay. Am I... nervous? No. No, ridiculous. I don't get nervous. I am Nathan fucking Young, I do not get nervous. Okay. Back on topic. Here… we… go…

I press my lips to hers and for a brief moment – a _very_ brief moment – I feel her dainty little hands on my shoulders as she moves her lips ever so slightly. My brain screams out in victory. But it's over faster than I can register.

"You can't do that!" she protests, jumping away quickly. "My power made me do that. You took advantage of me, you knew I would do that… Your behavior is _really_ inappropriate, Nathan. Please let us help you."

I can't… I can't even… _Marnie, what the fuck_. I scan her face again and there's no sign of the real Marnie anywhere. I never… I never realized that I… Now that she's… gone.

I need to get the hell out of here before I start saying (thinking?) some things I'll really regret; I push past her and make towards the exit as quickly as possible.

When I'm outside, it truly hits me: she's _gone_. There's nothing I can do. It's… over. I fancied her all right, I _really_ fancied her. I can't stick around to see this through, though, I just can't. I can't see her that way again, it's too hard. I have to leave. All this... _attachment_ bullshit; I'm not used to it. It doesn't work for me. It's too foreign.

So, I return to the community center and grab the few belongings that I actually have.

**xOx**

The next morning I'm sitting at the train station, ready to leave. The train pulls up in a flash and suddenly my mind shoots back to the past few weeks. _Fuck, I can't just abandon them_. What if there is a way, what if I can get her back? Maybe this is my one chance not to fuck something up – maybe this is God's way of giving me one last shot at not being a complete dickhead. Maybe I don't have to be useless all the time.

Just outside of the community center, I change into the only suit I own. A couple of virtue-freaks walk by me and in my most irritatingly pleasant voice I say, "Good morning, lovely weather we're having." They buy it. Maybe Marnie was right – maybe I should have gone into acting… God, I'm such a boss, I can't even handle it right now… Okay, okay, focus… Time to bring this bitch down.

In the community center, I see that they've turned the place into some sort of psycho dweeb headquarters that looks like the wrong end of a travel agency. Curtis comes up to me and says, "Nathan, I'm so glad you're with us."

"I'm so pleased to be here," I sneer. Shit, this is easier than I thought it'd be… All this constant mocking has seriously paid off. "I was such a loser – the drugs, the sex. Ha! All that fast-food! I was so miserable."

"I hear you, you were such an annoying idiot."

Ouch. Take it in stride, Nathan, take it in stride… "What's this?" I ask, indicating to his clipboard.

"It's a petition campaigning against contraceptives being given out in schools. Will you sign it?"

Ha! Of course I'll sign it, you dumb twat. Because that's exactly what the world needs – more sluts getting pregnant. "There's only one thing young ladies should be inserting in themselves, and that's knowledge." I am fucking brilliant.

I see virtue-bitch head off into the probation worker's former office and say, "Please excuse me," before following her and shoving in my handy-dandy earphones. I take my fake gun out of the back of my trousers and walk in to see the little cunt praying. I point it at her, unable to hear a bloody thing.

"Change them back to how they were," I order.

Her mouth is moving, but I can't hear shit. "Your voodoo magic won't work on me, I can't hear a word you're saying! Now, whatever you did to them, undo it." She starts talking again and it sounds like I'm underwater or something. Gah, why does she keep talking? Just undo the fucking mind tricks! "Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, change them back!"

She's shaking her head stupidly, and I've had enough. I cock the gun and state, "I'm gonna _shoot you in the face._"

_Jesus_, she keeps talking. "What's that?" More blubbering. "You think I won't do this?" I press the pistol right up to her head. "I'll put a bullet in your skull!"

Shit, someone's walked in, I can sense it.

Oh, no, oh, it's Kelly. Oh, you poor, sweet chav. How could they stifle your raccoon-eyed glory? "I'm gonna stop this," I shout at her, "She did this to you!" I glance down to the book she's holding. "Are you reading a university prospectus? Aw, Jesus! This ends now." Oh God, she looks like she might leave. "Kelly," I try, "Kelly, don't!" She's gone.

Oh shit, the game is on. I rush out, waving the gun like a lunatic. "Everybody stay the fuck down or I will shoot her in the face!" I head towards the stairwell. Damn, flash a gun and all of a sudden you're Mr. Authority! I'll have to remember that… They're all following me, so I secure the door with a chair once I get to the roof.

I look down at the crowd below me as I'm holding this bitch at gunpoint and see Kelly, Nathan, Alisha, and Marnie. _Marnie_. I'm doing this for them. Okay. Here we go.

"She's got you thinking this is how you're supposed to be," I shout to my audience, "but it's not! We're young! We're supposed to drink too much! We're supposed to have bad attitudes and shag each other's brains out! We are designed to party! This is it! Yeah, so maybe a few of us will overdose or go mental. But Charles Darwin said, 'You can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs,' and that's what it's all about! Breaking eggs! And by eggs, I do mean getting plastered and passin' out... If you could just _see_ yourselves!" I take a breath, before continuing, "It breaks my heart, you're wearing cardigans! We had it all! We fucked up bigger and better than any generation that came before us! _We were so beautiful_! We're screw-ups. _I'm_ a screw-up. And I plan to be a screw-up until my late twenties, maybe even my early thirties. And I will shag my own mother before I let her or anyone else take that away from me!"

I take a deep breath, on a high from this magnificent, Shakespearean masterpiece that I have just delivered. The virtue-bitch suddenly shoves me and points to my gun. Shit. It's leaking. I still can't hear her, though, so I start squirting her rapidly and she grabs the gun from my hand.

"Alright, love, calm down," I say as she starts squirming to get away from me. I start jostling her and we both slip on the wet rooftop. She topples over the edge, and I'm not far behind. I struggle to keep my balance and out of nowhere Barry appears and grabs my hand. But I'm falling away from him. Oh, fuck. This is it, isn't it?

"Save me, Barry!" I yell.

I feel the wind wash over me as a flail desperately, followed by a sharp pain in my chest.

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><p><strong>Author's note: This was really fun to write, but I don't know if I've got his internal monologue quite right. I tried to make it very stream of consciousness-esque without <strong>**having it be too confusing. I get the impression that Nathan's thoughts are probably pretty jumpy. What do you all think? Also, I know that thus far it might kinda seem like I'm just replacing Kelly with Marnie, but I promise that when I get to the timeline of the second season I'm going to deal with the storyline a lot differently. Thanks for reading! :-)  
><strong>


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's note: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! This one is back in Marnie's POV.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

I regain awareness suddenly; it's like I'm shoved back into my body, and the first thing I notice is that I'm standing in front of Curtis, Alisha, and Kelly. We're all dressed like complete twats and I quickly remember it's because we'd all been brainwashed.

I then realize that Simon and Nathan are conspicuously missing. "Where's Nathan?" I ask the others.

I'm answered by several shrieks and the sight of Alisha clamping her hands over her mouth; her eyes turn to saucers. I spin around hastily, and everything seems to slow down.

Its… Nathan. There, on the fence. He's – the fence – he's impaled on the fence. I – I just – I can't even comprehend…

The tears rush from my eyes faster than I can get to him. His body is elevated, completely still. Blood has seeped through the entire front of his white button up shirt and his arms are hanging limply, outstretched because of his position.

His green eyes are still open.

"Nathan!" I cry. I hold his head with my hands and desperately search his face from upside-down for some sign of life.

He's dead. "No," I chant in desperation, "No, this can't happen! He can't die! He can't! Please, someone call an ambulance!"

I grab Curtis almost rabidly. "You have to go back!" I order, "You have to go back in time, you have to stop this from happening! He can't die! Not him, please, just not him!"

His eyes search mine, holding a mixture of sadness and sympathy. He, too, looks as if he is on the verge of tears. "I – I can't," he stutters helplessly. "I don't know how it works…"

"Then what's the point of you!" I hiss venomously, shoving him away from me. I run back to Nathan and sob pathetically. I don't even care anymore. I don't care about anything or anyone. People can pity me, people can think I'm weak. It doesn't matter. None of it matters. All that matters is Nathan is gone. Nathan is dead. And I – and I –

Kelly drags me away from the sight and forces me into an embrace as my body shakes hysterically. She, too, is sobbing. "Nathan," I mumble into her shoulder. "It's – it's not supposed to be like this…"

"Shh." She's rubbing my back comfortingly, but I just can't accept what's happened. There has to be a way – there's always a way! Maybe there's someone – maybe there's someone out there who can bring people back from the dead. Maybe it's not too late, maybe Curtis will figure out how to control his power. Please. Someone please. Someone needs to help me. It can't be like this. What's the point of these powers if they can't do anything good? There has to be a way… Nathan, not him, not out of everyone. It's not supposed to be like this. It can't happen like this. He can't die.

**xOx**

I go to his wake after everyone else had left. I – I want to see him alone, one last time. I know it will be hard, but I just need to see his face, to remember him in some other context then how I'd seen him… before. The fence – that fucking fence – I would never get the image out of my mind. But the least I could do was go to see him. To go and… say goodbye.

Before I can gather the strength to actually look at him, I kneel in one of the pews for what was probably the first time since I'd made my first communion. _Please, God,_ I pray, _I know I haven't been the best Christian or Catholic or whatever I am, but please just can you listen to me? I know Nathan wasn't exactly the best Christian or Catholic or whatever he is, either, but he had a good heart. He might have (probably) broken every commandment, but he didn't deserve to die. What he did – he was just trying to save us. He really wasn't a bad person. So I know this is stupid and I know it's probably impossible, but if you could just please find a way to bring him back – any way at all – I will be indebted to you forever. I will go to church and try to live well and all that. I'm not making any huge promises, but I will definitely re-evaluate my life. And if you can't bring him back, can you at least make sure that he doesn't go to hell? Put in a good word or something? Thank you. Amen._

I open my eyes and take a deep breath in preparation for walking over to the casket. Praying was actually strangely cathartic.

I reach the open coffin and see him lying there, his arms neatly arranged by his sides. Not over his chest, like they usually do. His chest. Where he'd been –

I swallow the lump in my throat but can't stop the tears from gathering in the corners of my eyes. A few drip down my cheeks and form small wet marks on his white t-shirt. I briefly wonder why they haven't dressed him in something more formal, but quickly come to the conclusion that it doesn't matter in the slightest. I like him like this. It's more fitting. It's what he would have wanted.

His face is calm and peaceful. His eyes are closed, now, and his complexion is ashen.

I feel the urge to stroke his hair and I don't fight. There's no harm in it, and no one's around.

I always loved his hair. It was so unruly, so chaotic, so full of life. It was like his personality. It suited him perfectly.

He's so… still. The last time I'd seen him so still was when he was asleep on my sofa. I sniff at the memory, unexpectedly affected by it. "Nathan," I whimper, "Why did you have to do this?"

I let my gaze linger on his face for a little while longer, before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead and walking out of the church.

**xOx**

The funeral is the next day. It's not as hard as the wake had been, mostly because I can't actually see him and gravity of the situation is lost in the sound of an organ and a priest's voice. I sit by Kelly, Alisha, Curtis, and Simon, who are all understandably somber.

When it comes time, we walk to the graveyard.

The tears flow freely as they begin to cover his coffin with dirt, and Simon puts his arm around me as Kelly holds my hand.

They all seem to know that this is ruining me.

We linger after the others have gone, just staring into the soft earth. How has this happened? How has it come to this? Why him, why him out of everyone?

Simon tightens his grasp on my shoulder, and, when he does, I am suddenly transported back into his memories. I see Nathan on the rooftop; he's holding my hand, and I'm trying to pull him back. But my hands are slippery. "Save me, Barry!" he shouts. Then he falls. I feel an overwhelming sense of guilt.

I flinch and snap my head to look at Simon, my eyes searching his. He returns my gaze, aware of what I have just seen. I turn my attention back to the ground.

"We should go celebrate," Alisha says abruptly.

I feel everyone's eyes shift to her, but I can't bring myself to look away from his grave.

"Not celebrate like 'Woo, I'm so happy,' but just like, you know…" she clarifies, frustrated. "Can we just go for a drink?"

They start to file away in a procession of black, but I can't bring myself to move my feet.

"C'mon, Marnie," Kelly says softly.

I finally look up from the ground. "You guys go ahead," I say, my voice hoarse, "I think I'm just gonna… Head home."

"No, you should come wit' os," she says firmly.

I furrow my brow and look at the others, only to see that they're all eyeing me strangely. As if – as if they think I might do something stupid. Do they think I'm that weak? Do they think I was in love with him or something?

Was I in love with him?

No, I loved him, but I wasn't _in_ love with him.

Right?

It doesn't matter now, I suppose.

I give in eventually and we go to a club, of all places.

There's dubstep playing, a strobe light flashing, and people are dancing and making out. It's like a living hell.

We all sit in a small circle. The boys are drinking beers, and I'm drinking vodka straight. Simon raises his bottle and toasts, "To Nathan." We all put our glasses together and I throw my head back as I take the shot. With a wince, I swallow the burning liquid.

Suddenly, I can't bear to be here anymore. The lights, the noise, it's all too much. I'm experiencing a sensory overload. All I need is a quiet night, alone. I want to be alone.

I stand up abruptly. "I'm gonna go," I announce.

"You should stay," Alisha tries.

"No, I really need to leave," I say, running my hands through my hair anxiously. "I'll see you on Monday." I don't give them a chance to protest.

With that, I flee the blaring music and make it outside.

As I'm on my way home, I hear a pitter-patter against the watery cobblestone road and sense someone walking behind me. I turn around quickly to see Simon.

"What are you doing here?" I ask shortly.

"You saw, didn't you? You saw what happened?"

"Yeah."

"I tried to save him, I really did," he insists earnestly. "I'm so sorry."

"It's all right. It's not your fault." I can't really stand to dwell on what I saw any longer.

He swallows heavily and takes a CD out of his coat pocket. He hands it to me and says, "I made this for you."

"What is it?"

"Just watch it," he says before walking in the opposite direction.

**xOx**

When I get home, I change out of my black dress and take off my ruined makeup. Then, I lay down on my bed. I take out my shitty laptop and put the CD Simon gave me into the drive.

The fan on the old computer runs noisily, but pretty soon QuickTime opens and sad music starts playing.

A close-up image of Nathan's face flashes across the screen and instantly I feel a prickling in the back of my eyes and a painful ache in my heart.

It's the time when he stole Simon's phone and kept saying, "He's tryin' to kiss me!" I hear my own voice in the background, followed by a slapping noise and Nathan yelling "Ow!" I can't help but chuckle through my tears.

Then, there's another clip of him showing his ballsack picture to everyone. Followed by him calling us all shitheads.

It goes to a montage of him doing a variety of stupid things, including riding a shopping cart down the ramp at the community center. God, I miss him already.

There's a clip of him slapping my arse and running away swiftly before I have the chance to hit him. I grin at how offended I look in the video.

I have never felt so amused and devastated at the same time.

When it's over, I close the screen, wipe the tears from my eyes, and fold my hands on top of the computer. _Please, God,_ I pray again, _please let him come back_.

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><p><strong>Author's note: So there you go, I hope you like it! Please<strong> **review :-)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's note: Hey, everyone! Thanks so much to those of you who reviewed the last chapter! I really appreciate it! I hope you all like this one :-)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

Nothing about my life seems normal anymore. Nearly a week after the incident, I still wake up and walk into my kitchen, hoping to see _him_ lying on my sofa.

Obviously, this never happens, and it's strange that something that had only occurred once could leave such a long-withstanding impression in my mind.

I don't really cry, now; I'm instead consumed by an overwhelming feeling of numbness. Ironic, given the fact that my power has everything to do with emotions.

After Nathan's funeral and after I watched the video Simon gave me, I _almost _broke down and went to see my mum. But I didn't. I was able to soldier on.

Because what would I even say to her?

"_Oh hey, Mum, my friend just died and I'm a bloody mess so do you mind if I just crash here? Y'know, can you just hold me while I cry and brush my hair like you used to do when I was a kid? Oh, Chuck's home? Oh, he doesn't think I should be allowed here anymore? Okay, that's cool. I'll just go back to my flat and bawl my eyes out, then. Give Timmy my love."_ Somehow that didn't sound appealing. So I toughed it out, and I'm stronger for it.

To take my mind off things, I decide to apply for a job at a pub a few blocks away from my flat. It's not an altogether unpleasant establishment; a little dark and a little musty, but it's really very classic. There's a huge bar, which is obviously the main attraction, and a smattering of tables. There's an old fashioned jukebox in the corner and several neon signs above the bar.

I ask the bartender, "Hello, is the owner of the pub around? I'm looking to apply for a job."

He's a tall and spindly little bugger, with a shaved head, numerous tattoos, and a vast array of facial piercings. Not exactly the most charming guy. "Around the back, there's an office," he states dryly, "You should find him there. His name's Frank."

"Thanks," I say before following his directions.

The door to the office is open and a middle-aged man with a thick auburn beard and a balding head is sitting at his desk, doing some paperwork. I knock on the doorframe and his head shoots up immediately.

"What do you want?" he asks gruffly.

"I – er – was hoping I might be able to apply for a job," I say.

He takes one long look at me and I feel his eyes roam my body from head to toe. They linger on my legs for a while, which are revealed quite extensively by my black mini skirt. It's gross to be checked out by someone so much older than I am, but, let's be honest, this isn't the first time it's happened.

"Can you mix drinks?" he demands.

"Yeah."

"You're hired," he says finally.

"That's it?" I ask in disbelief. _That's not demeaning or anything…_

"Yeah, just fill this out," he takes a pamphlet out of the top drawer of his desk and hands it to me. "Bring it back tomorrow," he orders. "It's just to do with what shifts you can make and your wages and such. Y'know, legal stuff."

"Okay," I say courteously, "Thanks."

He nods curtly and waves me off. _Wow_, I think, _that was way easier than I thought it would be._

With this done, I feel at least mildly better about my situation.

But what I have yet to do – and am afraid of doing – is go back to the community center. _We_ spent nearly all our time there, and I know that whenever I walk those halls I will be plagued by the memory of _him_ and his stupid shenanigans.

Never going back isn't exactly an option, though, so I suck it up and press forward with my life.

**xOx**

The next day, before I arrive at the community center, I drop off the employment paperwork that Frank had given me. When I actually do get to the community center, I'm hit with a strong pang of nostalgia. However, I'm determined to convince the others that I'm totally fine and don't need to be put on suicide watch.

_Here we go_, I tell myself as I prepare to open the door.

It's only when I'm alone in the locker room and see Nathan's abandoned jumpsuit hanging forlornly that I'm affected. Kelly walks in, and I hastily wipe a single tear from my eye and make sure that my mascara hasn't smudged.

"You all right?" she asks gingerly.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I assure her with a morose smile.

She changes and as she's about to leave she looks at me expectantly. I'm still staring at Nathan's "Community Blowback" jumpsuit.

"You comin'?" she asks on her way out the door.

"Yeah, just give me a sec."

She nods and leaves. I stare at the spectral orange reminder for one last moment, before slamming the door to his locker shut and heading outside.

As soon as I get to the terrace, Kelly rushes over to me with a piece of paper in her hand. "Look at this!" she exclaims, shoving it into my hands.

It reads: GO TO HIS GRAVE. The print is too neat to be someone's handwriting. "Where did you get this," I demand evenly.

"It was a paper airplane – it 'it me in the eye!"

We go to find Simon, Curtis, and Alisha and show them the letter.

"It could be a trap," Simon warns after a moment.

"Right, we're here five minutes and already someone's setting a trap for us," Alisha complains. "It's too early for this bullshit."

"It's a wind-up – who uses a paper airplane?" Curtis chimes in.

"Well whoever it is, they're gonna get a slap," Kelly states.

"We should still go," I insist, "We can't take the risk of just ignoring it."

Just then, someone walks out of the building. He's older than us, probably in his late thirties, and has his hair slicked back.

"Who are you?" Alisha demands prissily.

"I'm your new probation worker," he replies dryly.

"Well, what happened to the other probation worker?" she asks.

"Apparently she's missing or something," he answers nonchalantly. "Now, apparently this is where I'm supposed to make a big speech about you paying your debt to society and making a difference, but seriously – we've all got things we'd rather be doing. Going to see your mates?" he says to Simon. "A little recreational drug use?" to Kelly. "Making love to your beautiful Italian girlfriend, yeah?" to Curtis. At this, I raise my eyebrows. "I'm talking about me" he elaborates, "Now let's just get through it and get out of here, alright?" He then turns away and walks back into the building.

"He's different," Curtis comments.

"I like him," I add.

We walk inside and there are a bunch of specials drawing at easels and I wonder how I'm going to get through the day after having just seen that letter about Nathan.

"You guys," I turn to them and ask, "what do you think the odds of him caring if I skip out today are?"

"High," Simon states bluntly.

"Nah, he seems pretty chill," Curtis disagrees.

"Why do you even ask?" Alisha questions.

"It's just – that note…"

"You're gonna go to 'is grave?" Kelly asks.

I nod.

"We'll cover for you," Alisha says. "We'll tell him that you were throwing up all over the place or some shit and that you had to leave. We'll meet you at the cemetery after."

"Okay, thanks so much," I say as I take off to the locker room. I change back into my jeans and tank top and pretend to look really sick, just in case I run into the probation worker.

When I arrive at the graveyard, I'm bombarded by the memory of his funeral and how awful I felt. Being back here… like this… it's really hard. And, as far as I can tell, there is nothing different about his grave.

I sit in the grass in front of it and stare at the tombstone. NATHAN YOUNG, is the sole inscription.

I couldn't see any reason to be here. But I couldn't bring myself to leave, either. I took a granola bar out of my purse and started eating as I looked around the empty cemetery. The sky is as bleak as I feel, and I don't think I've ever been in a quieter place. The scenery is so eerie that I half-expect a ghost to appear.

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><p><strong>Author's note: I know, this is a bit of a filler, but there will be more to come soon! Please review and I'll update ASAP :-)<strong>


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's note: Thanks to much to those of you who reviewed the last chapter! So, I pretty much focused painstakingly on this one because it's important. Hopefully you all like it! :-)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 12<br>**

When the others finally arrive, I have nothing to report. I think perhaps there might be something that I'm missing, something that someone else might notice. I'm wrong.

"Well, this was a complete waste of time," Alisha mutters impatiently. After only several minutes, she and Curtis head off. Kelly and Simon are close behind, and even I begin to give up hope.

However, as we're walking away, Kelly's face contorts and she looks back towards the grave. "What is it?" I ask urgently. Any sign, any trace that he could still be here, that he could still be alive... We can't ignore it. I would do anything to bring him back.

"I – I fink I can 'ear 'im! 'e's alive!"

We waste no time getting shovels and digging up the grave, working as fast as we possibly can. Curtis and Simon haul the coffin out of the ground and pry it open.

Seconds seem to pass like hours as I anxiously wait to see what's inside. Sure enough, Nathan's there. But he's in the same state as he was before: still and lifeless. My heart drops further than I ever thought was possible and a new wave of sorrow engulfs me.

We all study at his body in silence for several moments.

"He's dead," is Curtis' final prognosis.

"I 'eard 'im," Kelly insists, "I fink 'e was knockin' one out."

"That does sound like him," Simon adds.

"Maybe you just _wanted_ to hear him," Alisha suggests. "He's gone."

Throughout all this, I am quiet. I can't bring myself to say anything. _Please, please, please, _I pray.

"I'm tellin' you," Kelly says to me, "I 'eard 'im."

Suddenly, I realize something.

He's earbuds are out. They're not in his ears, but they were coiled up when they buried him.

"No!" I say suddenly. The others flinch and look at me pityingly, as if I've gone mental. "No," I continue insistently, "His earphones – "

Before I can go any further, Nathan's eyes shoot open and he springs up with a loud groan. "Dammit," he exclaims, "I thought I had you!"

"What the fuck!" Curtis shouts in shock. His mouth is hanging open, as I expect all of ours are.

Oh my God.

Oh.

My.

God.

My prayers were actually answered…?

"You should see the looks on your faces!" he laughs devilishly. "Classic!" After a second of two of rigid silence, he continues, "Hey, guess what? I'm immortal! Can you believe this shit?" He stands up and cracks his back like an old man. "I told ya I had a power! Looks like they saved the best for last, huh? Immortality – that's off the A-list."

Suddenly, everything sets in and I see red.

"YOU STUPID, FUCKING PRICK!" I scream, brutally attacking him. "WHAT THE _FUCK _IS WRONG WITH YOU? HOW COULD YOU DO THAT? HOW COULD YOU LET US THINK THAT, YOU COCKY, SELFISH, NARCISSISTIC, BASTARD?"

"Jesus, easy!" he exclaims, trying fruitlessly to shield my blows.

"WE THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD! _I_ THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD," I continue unrelentingly.

He grabs my wrists firmly, preventing me from throwing any more punches. I calm down immediately in response to the touch, my power kicking in. "God, I'm sorry, okay?" he says finally, his tone sincere.

I see his memories. I see him going to me while I was brainwashed and I see him kiss me. I hear what he said to me. I feel the sense of hurt he experienced when I spurned him, and the desperation he felt when he thought I was lost forever. When he thought I was lost _to him_ forever. There were genuine feelings there. More than just wanting to shag me, as it turns out.

We lock eyes and suddenly I need for everyone to be gone _now_. Like, right this instant. I'm getting the full effect of my emotions _and_ his, and I just need to snog the brains out of him immediately. Self-restraint has never been a problem for me, but right now I cannot keep it together. Oh my God, I need to run my hands through his curly hair and shove my tongue down his throat. I need it. I need it more than anything, I need it so badly that my heart is racing and I can barely breathe.

"Were you having a wank in there?" comes Alisha's shrill voice. She completely and irreparably shatters the moment.

He lets go of me and my hormones stop going haywire. "So what if I was?" he says calmly. "Can't a man enjoy a nice shuffle in the comfort of his own coffin? It's not like I was expecting visitors," he sneers before turning to Simon. "You, you little freak, what was all that on the roof of the community center?"

"I was trying to save you," he states.

"Yeah, well you failed _spectacularly_, didn't you?"

Simon clenches his jaw, clearly still disturbed by the whole thing. I would have thought that seeing Nathan up and about might have eased his guilt, but apparently not.

"Ugh," Nathan continues, rubbing his stomach, "I need to eat. Has anyone got a kebab?"

"I have half a granola bar," I say, tossing it to him.

"Thanks," he says sarcastically. He devours it in seconds nevertheless. "Anyone got anything else?"

"Do you want some chewing gum?" Simon asks.

"Tutti Frutti?" he sneers.

"I like it," Simon replies timidly.

Nathan has some despite making fun of it. "It was a bad scene in there," he says, shoving the gum in his mouth barbarically. "I thought I was going to starve to death."

"You're immortal, you can't starve to death," Curtis points out through gritted teeth. His hatred for Nathan seems to have returned rather rapidly.

"So, what are you gonna do now?" Kelly demands.

"I should probably go tell my mum that I'm immortal," he answers contemplatively. As he says this, however, he's looking at me.

_Everyone, get the FUCK out of here_, I think, hoping Kelly will hear me. She does.

"Well, if that's that," she starts, "I fink I'm gonna 'ead 'ome." She nudges Alisha with the subtlety of a spade to the forehead, who swiftly picks up on what's going on as her eyes dart between me and Nathan. She pulls Curtis along, and Simon follows them.

Nathan watches the group process by us with unbridled curiosity, but manages to keep his mouth shut during the whole ordeal.

"Well," he quips sarcastically once they're out of earshot, "_Obviously_ I was missed."

Before he can say anything else, I launch myself at him. I throw my arms around his neck and roughly pull his face down to my level, before gluing my lips to his. At first he's too stunned to respond, but he catches on quickly and returns my affections with equal passion. He easily wraps his arms around my waist as I crane my neck upwards to get better access to his mouth. I move my hand up his neck in knot it into the mess of curly brown hair that I love so much, relishing the feeling as he groans into my mouth. Our tongues battle each other eagerly and chaotically and I soon realize that I have forgotten to breathe.

As I pull away for a split second to allow my lungs to recover, he deftly backs us up so that I'm cornered against an old, ivy-covered obelisk. His warm mouth trails down from my jaw line to my neck. My heart is pounding and I'm trying to regulate my breathing, but he is doing nothing to help the situation.

Suddenly, reality sets in and I gently pull away. No, no, no, I am not about to fuck in a graveyard. Absolutely not. I remember the promise I made in church and quickly arrive at the conclusion that having sex in a cemetery does not fall under the category of "living well."

His eyes read mine in a desperate attempt to figure out what's holding me back, but instead of actually asking me he grins and mutters, "I guess I really was missed after all." He looks down at me through his eyelashes, one arm resting on the obelisk above my head and the other pressing my hips to his.

It's then, at this inopportune moment, that I realize that I'm chewing Tutti Frutti gum. "Ew," I say, spitting it in the grass.

He lets out a bark of laughter, before slowly leaning in and capturing my lips with his, which are chapped from dehydration. This time, the kiss is gentle and purposeful as opposed to sloppy and frantic. Our lips move in unison, and our tongues explore each other's mouths instead of trying to dominate one another. He ends it after several seconds and I know that when he looks at me I'm beaming like a fool.

"Well, this is an unexpected development," he mumbles after a moment, his grin never wavering.

I nod dumbly, unable to form words. Oh God, I'm getting all choked up… I look down at our feet (he's missing a sock…) and play with the hem of his flannel shirt.

He's not so dense that he doesn't notice something's wrong. "What's the matter?" he asks softly. "Are you gonna cry?" he demands in panic, realization washing over him like a tidal wave. "Oh God, oh no, don't cry," he chants, taking a step back and putting his hands up to calm me down. "I can't do crying! This is happy, yeah? Why would you cry? I'm all right, I'm fine, see? Fit as a fiddle!"

I chuckle darkly at his animated behavior and say, "That's just the thing. I thought I'd never see you again… I legitimately thought you were dead."

He makes an expression of utter confusion. "I – er – I'm not really good at this whole _girl_ thing, so forgive me if I don't completely understand. But are you tryin' to tell me that you're crying because you're _happy_?"

"I guess so, yeah," I laugh.

"Well that's bollocks! There's no need for cryin'! I'm sure you've already cried quite enough. You cried at my funeral, I assume?" he teases in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"What do you think?" I snap irritably. The mention of the whole thing is too bitter to recall.

His gaze softens slightly and he says, "Look, if it's any consolation, I didn't think I was gonna see you again either. I thought I was gonna be trapped in that bloody coffin for all of eternity. Now that would have _really_ sucked, am I right? Never thought I'd be snogging you a few days later, that's for sure… So what I'm sayin' is, I guess I missed you too, alright? Sheesh…"

"You went to see me," I murmur, "You went to see me at my flat when I was brainwashed."

His whole body stiffens. "Er – yeah," he says evasively. Clearly this is not something he wants to discuss, but I don't care; I stare at him expectantly and wait for him to elaborate. He takes the cue after a moment and continues, "I went to see you… I saw your lingerie… I saw you… I tried to get you to go back to normal… I – erm – I snogged you… And then I left. The end." I smirk at the last part; he didn't snog me, he _kissed_ me. But he couldn't bring himself to put it that way, because apparently it was too sappy. He wasn't looking me directly in the eye anymore; his gaze was instead flickering around the graveyard. "What do you want me to say?" he finally demands in exasperation.

"Nothing," I say innocently.

"Look, okay," he rambles in frustration, "yeah, I fancy you. And obviously _you_ fancy me, as evidenced by what's just happened. I mean, c'mon, how could you _not_? And you know, okay, maybe it took you going mental and me dying to get this all straightened out, but what it basically comes down to is that we fancy each other and at some point we're gonna seal the deal! It's simple mathematics! We both know I'm right, love."

"Alright, I fancy you," I admit. Now it was my turn to avert my gaze.

"Well, then it's sorted! Now we can get to shagging!"

"Not so fast," I say. "Didn't you want to see your mum?"

"Pfft, she can wait," he dismisses, pressing me closer and starting to undo his belt.

"I'm not gonna shag you in a churchyard!" I protest in indignation.

"Well why the hell not?" he demands, "This is as good a place as any!"

"_Nathan_," I warn.

"Jesus, don't tell me you've gone all superstitious on me. I thought killin' that little virtue-bitch woulda snapped you out of it... I didn't die for nothing, love."

I bite my lip.

"_You have_?" he demands in horror. "Oh, well that's just bloody perfect," he grumbles.

"It's not what you think," I assure him. "It's just… I prayed for you to come back and I promised that I would try to be a better person if you did… And, well, look what happened! I'm not gonna mess with that shit!"

He raises his eyebrows wildly and I can tell that he has absolutely no idea how to respond. While on one hand I suspect he's touched that I actually went through the trouble to _pray_ for him, he must also be quite miffed that I'm not going to shag him against a tombstone. And he probably thinks I'm a bit loony for actually having prayed for him in the first place.

"Well," he says finally, "what are we talking about here? Like, no shagging _ever_? Because I gotta say, love, that's a deal breaker."

"No, just no shagging in a churchyard, you twat."

"Oh. Alright, then. I can live with that. To be continued, then, ey?"

"I guess."

"Wonderful. Well then. Let's go back to your flat, shall we?"

"You should go see your mum," I advise.

"Ah, who cares about my mum…"

"Nathan."

"God, you're not making this easy, are you? Fine, alright. I'll go see her."

By this time, the sun has gone down. The prospect of parting ways in a darkened graveyard suddenly sounds extremely unappealing. We stand facing each other uneasily, both unsure of what to do.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhh," he says awkwardly.

"Well, I – er – "

"You could – "

"I'll see you – "

"Youcouldcomewithme!" he blurts out in one fast string, finally getting a word in.

We share a grin over how inept with both are, before linking arms and cheerfully starting off towards his house. I know that this doesn't exactly carry the implications that it might under other circumstances, but I still am amazed by the fact that I'm about to meet Nathan's mother, who he obviously holds dear. I can't help but think it's cute that he cares for her so deeply, though he'll _never_ admit it. But hey, that's what my power is good for, isn't it? He absolutely detests admitting things, but with me, he never has to. It works out perfectly.

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><p><strong>Author's note: So, I made up a large portion of this. Because of this, I'd especially love to hear what you all think. This sort of scene has been a long time coming, I guess, but I think it would take Nathan a really long time to ever admit anything more than a physical attraction. It's like his annoying persona is really just a shell to protect him from getting hurt, which implies that he's actually terrified of legitimately caring for someone. But that's just my impression. Please review! :-)<strong>


	13. Chapter 13

**_Author's Note:_ Hi guys, I know it's been a really long time and everything, but your reviewers have prompted me to get my ass in gear, and it doesn't hurt that I actually spontaneously started rewatching season 2 yesterday. So, without further delay, here is chapter 13! It's super long.  
><strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter 13<strong>

When we get to his house, Nathan seems almost hesitant to ring the doorbell. He lets his finger hover over the smooth button and I ask, "What's the matter?"

"Nothin'… I just – I don't know how she'll take this… It's not exactly the most believable story, is it?"

"It will be fine," I assure him, "She's your mum, she'll be happy to see you no matter the circumstances."

"Yeah, yeah you're right. I'm being stupid." Without further ado, he presses the button and a soft chime from within the house can be heard.

A woman with dark brown hair and light eyes opens the door.

"Hiya, Mum!" Nathan greets, his arms outstretched. "I'm immortal!"

She shrieks, before fainting immediately and smashing her head hard on the radiator. It's a bad scene. There's a lot of blood.

"Well, shit," he says slowly.

A man who I presume to be his step-dad comes barreling into the mudroom; his eyes dart from Nathan to his mum, then back to Nathan. Finally, he exclaims, "What the bloody hell is going on? _You're _supposed to be dead!" Before his question is answered, however, he rushes beside Nathan's mum and cradles her head.

"I'm immortal," Nathan repeats dryly, "She didn't take it too well…" He bends over beside the woman's prone form and snaps his fingers in front of her face. "Muuum? You all right? I think she's unconscious," is his final prognosis.

"No shit," I snap.

Nathan's step-dad eyes me disapprovingly and demands, "And who the hell are you?"

"I – er – I'm a friend of Nathan's," I stammer. The man in question looks up at me with a cocked eyebrow, but appears to be too preoccupied with bringing his mum back to consciousness to comment on my word choice. Eventually, he and his step-dad move her to the sofa. We're all sitting silently in the living room, waiting for her to wake up.

And, in about five minutes, she groggily opens her eyes. Immediately, she is hit with the pain of her injury, which appears to be a split lip. She clutches her mouth and sleepily asks, "What happened?" However, when she notices Nathan sitting in the chair across from her, she quickly sits up. "You – you're alive?" Her tone sounds almost as if she thinks she's seeing a ghost, as if the whole thing is too good to be true.

"Yep."

Suddenly, she stands and rushes over to her son, trapping him in a tight embrace. She then releases him and takes his face in her hands. "Explain."

"Well, you remember that storm? The one that made Jeremy here act like a psycho pedophile dog-man?"

She rolls her eyes, but nevertheless replies, "Yes?"

"Well, it gave a bunch o' people different superpowers, and mine happened to be immortality."

She opens her mouth and looks like she might refute his claim as another one of his elaborate lies. "He's telling the truth," I interject supportively, "The same thing happened to me and our other mates from the community center."

"Who are you?" she asks in surprise, apparently noticing me for the first time.

Before I can answer, Nathan proudly says, "She's called Marnie. She's me girlfriend." He gives me a wicked smirk, folds his arms behind his head, and leans back in his chair. His mum raises her eyebrows in response, looking to me for confirmation.

I lick my lips anxiously and answer, "Yeah… It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. –" I hesitate and my eyes dart to Jeremy. I don't know what her last name is.

"Louise," she finishes kindly. We shake hands, and she takes her place back on the sofa.

After a moment of awkward silence, I say, "Would you like me to get you some ice?"

Still in shock, she absentmindedly replies, "Hm? Oh yes, that would be lovely, dear… Nathan, show her to the kitchen."

I stand rigidly as he languidly drags himself out of the chair to lead me to the refrigerator. Once we're out of the elders' sight, he puts his lithe arms on either side of me and corners me against the counter. "Y'know, you're cute when you're nervous," he whispers into the crook of my neck. I stand stock-still, willing myself not to respond to his advances.

"_Nathan_," I warn quietly, "your mum just bashed her face in on the radiator. Now is really not the time."

He huffs in agitation, but manages to pull away. "Fine," he says begrudgingly. He fills a plastic bag with some ice and hands it to me. We then rejoin the others in the living room and I pass the bag of ice to his mum.

"Thanks," she says sweetly. I practically gawk at her; it's incredibly hard to believe that such a mild-mannered woman could have given birth to the firebrand that was Nathan Young.

I sit beside my self-proclaimed "boyfriend" and another heavy silence descends upon us. It seems that no one knows quite what to say, given the strangeness of the situation. I observe Nathan's mum and her husband on the sofa. They're quite a charming couple, really. He's stroking her hand gently and it's clear that they both love each other very dearly. It's such a simple act of affection, but it seems so intimate. I can't understand why Nathan has such a problem with him, seeing as he obviously means well.

Eventually, his mum says, "Nathan, sweetheart, you really ought to let your father know."

Nathan scoffs and averts his gaze. "Did he even know I was dead in the first place?" he demands bitterly, "I can't imagine he cared – did he bother showing up to the funeral, or did he just send a sympathy card? I bet he was quite relieved that he no longer has to deal with me."

"Nathan, you know your father loves you," she replies sadly.

"Well, there's one very easy way to find out," he says cheerily, whipping out his mobile. He scrolls through the contacts, before pressing the "send" key. His eyes dart to all of us as the phone rings, an infuriating smile plastered across his face. Finally, a muffled shouting can be heard from the other end of the line. "No, no, this is no sick joke," Nathan says calmly, "It's really me! Well, it's a bit of a long story, really. I was short on money, so I decided the best way to make the problem go away was to fake my own death… What? No, I'm not fucking with you! It was quite the good plan! Mum collected a hefty sum, which we will now use to install a pool, and she can sue the bejesus out of the community center… Y'know, you sound a bit angry. I think I'm going to let you go – just wanted to tell you I'm not really dead. I can see that I've really put your mind at rest. Ciao!" With that, he flips the phone shut and is met with a furious stare from his mother.

"Now, why would you do something like that?" she questions tiredly, rubbing her temples.

"You don't honestly think he'd buy that whole immortality spiel," he asks incredulously. "C'mon, Ma, you know Dad – he had no trouble believing what I just told him."

She is silent, which I take as an unwilling acknowledgment of the truth in Nathan's statement. Changing the subject, she says, "Have the two of you had any dinner? I can order some takeaway."

I hesitate, but Nathan immediately replies, "Could you? Oh, that would be brilliant. I haven't had anything to eat in days."

"Of course," she fusses over him, "Jeremy, would you be a dear and get the phone book? What would you like, honey?" Jeremy disappears into the kitchen like an obedient puppy.

"I could really go for Chinese," he states contemplatively, looking quite at home under his mother's doting gaze.

"Jeremy, order some Chinese," she instructs from her position on the sofa. Man, she really had her husband whipped, I note. "What about you, Marnie," she asks, "Is Chinese all right?"

"Yes, of course," I answer mildly. "I'm fine with anything." She smiles at me and I can tell that she's surprised by how polite I am. I suppose it makes sense, given the fact that I'm not exactly dressed like Kate Middleton. But I really want her approval, as I know it would mean a lot to Nathan. Plus, I make him look good by making myself look good, and I imagine that he needs to redeem his character a bit in the eyes of his parents.

While we wait for the food to be delivered, Nathan's mum suggests he take a shower. I can't help but agree; being trapped in a coffin for several days couldn't be good for one's hygiene, that's for sure. However, this leaves me alone with his mum and step-dad.

"So," she begins in an effort to be friendly, "You know Nathan from the community center?"

Ah yes, that's a bit of a problem… Not exactly the best place to pick up good girls, that's for sure. "Yeah," I answer tentatively. I don't give any further information and they don't press the matter, for which I am grateful.

"Do you live nearby?" she inquires.

"Yeah, I live in a flat about a twenty minute's walk away from here," I say, glad to be off the community center topic.

"Do you live with your parents, or…" Jeremy asks.

"No, I live alone. My mum and step-dad live in Wertham too, but they're not really walking distance."

"Do you have any siblings?"

"I have a half-brother," I answer. "He's just a baby."

"That's nice," she says, unable to come up with any other response. "So… How long have you and Nathan been seeing each other?"

Hm. That was a tricky question. "Well," I say truthfully, "We really only just got together, but we've been mates since we both started community service. It's really cliché to be honest, but I think we only realized we fancied each other after… Well, you know."

They seem happy with this answer, as if they can tell that I have genuine feelings for Nathan.

Soon, Nathan hops down the staircase and I am saved from further interrogation. His mop of curly hair is still wet and he's dressed in a pair of clean jeans and a t-shirt.

"Is the food here yet?" he demands obnoxiously.

"No, honey. It should be soon, though," his mum answers. He strolls to the sitting area and exaggeratedly throws himself into the chair he'd been previously occupying.

And several minutes of chitchat later, the doorbell rings. Nathan practically sprints to the door and rips the food out of the poor delivery boy's hands. He's about to slam the door, but abruptly remembers to pay. "Anyone got any cash?" he asks.

Nathan's mum looks to Jeremy, who quickly digs several bills out of his pocket and gives them to the lad.

By this time, Nathan has already made his way into the kitchen and had begun unpacking the cartons of food. The rest of us soon join him at the table and he has already started shoveling chopsticks-full of lo mein into his mouth.

"Nathan, where are you manners?" his mum scolds.

"Mum, I 'aven't eaten in days!" comes his muffled protest, his mouth full to the brim.

She merely shakes her head and takes several plates out of the cupboard. "Well, the rest of us can eat like civilized human beings," she tells me apologetically. I merely smile – I had certainly seen Nathan on far worse behavior.

When we're finished eating, a heavy sense of awkwardness sets in. It's quite late, nearly midnight. Nathan is distantly staring at the clock, which his mother soon notices. "Love, you could stay here tonight, if you want. I'd certainly be happy to have you back home for the night after all that's happened."

I know that Nathan is going to ultimately accept this offer, but he plays coy. "Oh I don't know, I do have such a _lovely_ flat. And I wouldn't want Marnie to have to walk home all alone…"

"Marnie, you're welcome to stay as well," she offers.

Nathan narrows his eyes. "We don't have a guest room," he states.

At this, his mum flushes. Jeremy, in what I believe to be an attempt to get on Nathan's good side, "Well, the two of you are adults. I don't see any reason why you can't stay together, right Louise?"

I blush redder than a beet; his mother is clearly not fond of the idea. "Well, I don't –" Jeremy nudges her, and she finally agrees, "I suppose…"

Nathan beams at them and stands abruptly. "Well then, it's settled!" He grabs my wrist and says, "C'mon, Marnie, I'll give you the grand tour… _Of my cock_," he whispers the last part so only I can hear.

"No," I say, pulling away from him, "I'm going to clean the dishes. Louise, Jeremy, why don't you two head off to bed, I'll clean up. I'm sure this has been a very tiring day for both of you."

The two of them look more than enthused by this idea, and are quick to accept my offer. I know then that I've completely won them over. As they start towards the stairs and are out of earshot, Nathan grumbles, "There's no need to be such an arse-kisser…"

"Hey, I just want them to like me," I reply as I run the water. After I put on a pair of Marigolds and am well into washing the dishes, Nathan comes behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. I stiffen completely under his touch, but he doesn't back off.

"_Nathan_," I chide, trying to ignore him.

"What?" is his cheeky reply. Gah, I hate it when he plays innocent.

He begins pressing feather-light kisses to my neck and shoulder and I scrub furiously to keep my mind off of it. My stupid power… Not only do I feel what I feel, I feel what he feels, too. It's nothing short of maddening.

"Why don't you wipe down the table," I order.

"I already did."

I quirk an eyebrow, knowing he can't see my face. I don't entirely believe him, but it's clear that he isn't going anywhere until I'm finished. "You know," I purr, "The more you help me, the faster this will get done…"

He untangles himself from me at lightning speed and begins drying the dishes and putting them away. We're done with the cleanup in a matter of minutes.

"This all feels a bit too domestic for me," he says with a scowl.

"You don't like playing house, Mr. Young?" I tease with an amused smirk. I take the second Marigold off my left hand and use it to smack his arse.

At first, he looks nothing short of stunned at my uncharacteristic forwardness. However, he recovers swiftly and says, "You little tease! Tell me, if I _were_ keen on playing house, what would happen next?"

I give him an evil grin, but innocently reply, "Well, I suppose the mister and missus would go upstairs and have some _alone_ time."

Again, he presses my body against the counter and traps me with his long arms. "And you would be the missus, would you?"

"Naturally." I don't want to push the metaphor any further, though, because I don't want him to get the wrong idea – I'm not trying to marry him or something. This is all just for kicks.

"And this alone time," he murmurs, inching his face towards mine, "What would it happen to entail?"

I close the gap between our lips and give him a heated kiss. "Mm probably something like that," I mumble against his mouth.

His hands skirt beneath the hem of my shirt and I gasp as they move upwards. "And that?" he questions huskily. I briefly shut my eyes and revel in the feeling. When I open them, I see that his green ones are half-lidded and almost black with lust.

"Yes, that too," I reply breathily. From what I can feel against my lower abdomen, this game is moving too quickly to be continued in the kitchen. I delicately push him back and he groans in protest.

"Don't be impatient," I reprimand flirtatiously. Before he has a chance to grab me and pull me back, I sashay towards the staircase and make sure to swing my hips as I go. He fairly darts after me and drags me to his bedroom. When we get there, he slams the door behind him and shoves me against it, showering me with kisses. I don't even have time to get angry with him for making such a loud noise (and probably waking up his mum and Jeremy, I wonder what they think _we're_ doing…).

I run my hands beneath his shirt and run my hands all over his lean, surprisingly muscular body. Our clothes are shed at an inhuman speed and before I know it I'm lying in the center of his bed and he's above me. The most remarkable thing is probably that he hasn't spoken a word since we reached his bedroom. I can't even describe the bliss I felt. It was mine and his and _ours _and I hadn't slept with anyone since acquiring my power and I hadn't known that it was possible to feel anything so _intense_.

But what struck me most, what was the most jarring about the whole thing, is this: I think I'm in love with Nathan Young, and I think he's in love with me, too.

**xOx**

I awake halfway on top of Nathan, only to see our clothes scattered throughout the room. A brief glance at his alarm clock tells me we have plenty of time to make it to the community center. His arm is around me and I try to slide out of his grip without waking him, but to no avail. He stirs groggily and meets the sight of me pulling my clothes on with a lazy grin.

"Man, now _that _was what I call a welcome back present…" he mutters.

I roll my eyes and say, "Get dressed, you prick. We have to get going to the community center soon."

He moans and pulls his pillow over his face. "I don't want tooo," he whines.

"Too bad."

Slowly, he removes the pillow from his face and says, "That was great. I mean _really_, that was some next-level shit."

"Yep."

"I mean I knew I was good," he prattles on, "but I didn't know I was _that_ good…"

I feel my face heat up and I quickly snap, "Remember that my power makes me feel things more… powerfully…"

He snorts in amusement and says, "Whatever lets you sleep at night, love. All I know is you were screaming like a banshee. 'Oh Nathan, Nathan please! Yes! Harder!" he imitates.

"Can we just stop!" I interrupt in embarrassment.

"Touchy, touchy…"

I bite my lip, torn over whether or not I should voice my next thought. Now's as good a time as any, I finally surmise. "Nathan," I say seriously, "I have an idea, but you have to be serious for like two seconds – can you do that?"

He crinkles his nose in disdain for the thought, but nevertheless says, "Yeah, alright. But make it snappy."

"I was thinking," I start, "I was thinking that maybe you can share my flat instead of living at the community center. I mean, you'd have to get a job to help pay rent, but it would make financial stuff easier for the both of us…"

Clearly this is not what he was expecting me to say, and he raises his eyebrows dramatically. "You want to move in together?" he asks incredulously. I can't tell if he thinks I'm mental or if it's too good to be true.

"I know it's really fast, obviously, but it just seems to make sense…"

"Babe, all you have to do is ask!" he says with a genuine smile. I find myself smiling back like an idiot.

"Good, then," I say hesitantly. "That's good."

He finally gets out of bed and I try desperately not to stare at him while he gets dressed. God, what's wrong with me…

When we walk down to the kitchen, Nathan's mum and Jeremy are already awake but still in their pajamas. After two cups of coffee and a bowl of cornflakes, Nathan and I start off to the community center.

"…Yeah so my mum opens the door and she's like, 'AHHHH' and I'm like, 'I'm immortal!' and then she fainted, face plants on the radiator, there's blood and teeth everywhere," Nathan tells the others once we're in the locker room.

"Is she all right?" Kelly asks.

"He's exaggerating," I state.

"Yeah, yeah she's fine, she's fine," he says, ignoring me, "Apart from the whole… face."

"How did you tell your dad?" Alisha asks. I try to stifle a snicker.

"Told him I faked my own death as part of an elaborate life insurance scam – he was _not_ a happy man," he reminisces fondly.

"And you two," Curtis says disparagingly, gesturing between me and Nathan, "What, are you like a thing now?"

"If that's your way of askin' if Marnie and I are a couple, then the answer is most certainly _yes_," he says smugly, slinging his arm around me. I shrug him off, but nod wordlessly in confirmation.

Suddenly, the probation worker enters the room and demands, "Who are you?"

Nathan, looking mildly accosted, says, "I could ask you the same thing."

"I'm the probation worker," he replies bluntly. His face is completely expressionless, which puts a damper on Nathan's insolent smirk.

"Oh," he says finally. "Nathan, Nathan Young." He sticks out his hand for a handshake, but the probation worker just eyes him warily.

"They told me you were dead."

Nathan uses two fingers to check his pulse. "Really? Apparently not… Could a dead man do this?" He starts doing some sort of ridiculous dance and I cover my face with my hand in shame. I was dating a _child._ Although, he certainly hadn't acted so childish last night…

"That's nasty!" came Kelly's voice.

"You shouldn't be doing that!" I snap in horror.

"What was it?" I hear Alisha whisper, dying for gossip.

"They shagged," Kelly hisses back.

Alisha snorts and says, "Well I coulda told you _that_."

Nathan's dance is curtailed by him slamming his face into a locker door and the probation worker continues, "Well, I'll put you back in the system."

"Hold on, what?" Nathan demands. "Are you saying I was out of the system, I was a free man, and if I didn't show up here no one woulda come looking for me?"

"We thought you were dead," the probation worker reasons before leaving.

Nathan looks positively horrified, and the others share a laugh at his misfortune. "You prick," Curtis mumbles in amusement.

Later, we see Simon talking to one of the loonies; Kelly confronts him afterwards and asks, "Do ya know 'er or somefin'?"

"No," he answers suspiciously.

"Are you tryin' to shag 'er?" Alisha questions mirthfully.

"She's not _that_ mentally ill," Nathan chimes in. The girl hears this and looks at him with wide, beady eyes. I jab him in the ribs and he amends, "Hey, no offense. A lot of people say _I'm_ mentally ill," _okay, good job,_ I think. "But obviously I'm not, because I'm over here and you're over there with the other crazies…"

"Nathan," I hiss, "why would you say something like that?" I can't help but pity the poor girl since she now looks as if she might burst into tears at any moment. The others giggle at her expense.

"What, it's true!" he says. I roll my eyes. _Maybe this was a mistake_, I think. I storm away in agitation and he follows me ruefully. "Aw _c'mon_," he groans, "Don't be like that, Marnie."

"Nathan, you can't just say stuff like that and expect people to be okay with it!" I protest.

"Fine, fine, whatever. But I'm not gonna be one of those pussies who changes themselves to be what their girlfriends want, nosiree. If you want _this_," he motions to his body and I have to look away before I start laughing, "you're going to have to accept some of my… shenanigans." He leans in for a kiss, but I turn my head and give him my cheek.

I grin and playfully shove him away. "You dickhead," I mutter affectionately. He grins and presses a sloppy, wet kiss to my other cheek. "Gross!"

"You love it," he taunts. He slaps my bum (there seems to be a lot of this going on lately…) as we walk in opposite directions and I can't help but shake my head. I hate it that I find him funny, I really do…

After lunch, Alisha, Kelly, and I are in the locker room when suddenly we hear a huge commotion in the hallway. We rush out, only to see Curtis pinning a bloodied Simon against the wall.

Nathan is already there and I walk beside him. He says, "Well this is gonna be interesting – I wanna get comfortable for this…" He sits on the tarp and tries to pull me onto his lap. "Are you mental?" I demand in disbelief, "This isn't funny!"

"What's going on?" Kelly shouts.

"What happened to all the blood?" Curtis asks Alisha. Okay, now I am thoroughly confused.

"Did you 'it 'im?" Kelly asks Curtis.

"He attacked Alisha!"

"Uh, no he didn't!" Alisha herself states.

"You were in the locker room – your face was all messed up – you said he attacked you!"

"What are you talking about?"

"You 'it 'im again, I will kick your balls back into your stomach, mate!" Kelly says wrathfully.

"I think he's been wanking over me," Alisha interjects.

"What?" Curtis demands.

"I haven't!" Simon says pitifully.

"Well that's not very convincing," Nathan says.

"She gave you a blow job?" Kelly says out of nowhere.

"What?" Alisha demands.

"I read 'is mind, 'e says you sucked 'im off."

"What the fuck is going on?" Curtis demands.

"Uh, if I was going to suck someone's cock, trust me, it wouldn't be his."

"Aw, you gonna cry now?" Nathan asks Simon.

"Look, just be straight wiv os, yeah? Did she or did she not?"

"Whoever it was that was sucking your cock, it wasn't me!"

"Something weird's going on," Curtis says finally. _No shit!_

"Well, whatever it is, I'm guessing it's your fault," Nathan says to Simon. He moves from his position on the tarp. "Jesus!" he exclaims as a very gray and very _dead_ arm is uncovered.

Simon is beyond distraught. Nathan slowly brings his hand up to remove the tarp and I grip his other arm in anticipation. Sure enough, the lifeless and frozen face of our former probation worker is revealed. Her eyes are wide open and seem to be staring into our very souls. I bury my face in the fabric of Nathan's jumpsuit, unable to bear the gruesome sight.

"Is that the probation worker?" Kelly asks finally.

"You _killed_ 'er?" Curtis says in disbelief.

"Sh-she was after us," Simon pleads, "She was engaged to Tony, the first probation worker. She found out about us killing him."

"What, so, you kill her?" Alisha says incredulously. "That's _brilliant,_ problem solved!"

"She was going to the police – I didn't mean to kill her – it was-it was an accident!"

"You're a weird little psycho," Nathan says, disturbingly serious. "And now everyone knows it." His arm is around me in a surprisingly comforting fashion and I still can't bear to pull my face away from the protection of his body. I don't want to see it. If I don't see it, it's not real… He senses my panic and starts to take me away from the scene. He himself is uncharacteristically solemn.

" 'ey, donchu walk away!" Kelly yells after us, "This is on all of os!"

Nathan leads me to the locker room and closes the door. Peeved, I say, "Now's not the time, Nathan. What are we gonna do?"

He starts cackling. Not laughing, _cackling_, and I begin to grow very, very worried.

"What the fuck, Nathan?"

He starts laughing harder and harder, until the lights in the room start flickering eerily. Now sufficiently panicked, I rush towards the door and try to pry it open; but Nathan is behind me, keeping in shut. But this isn't Nathan. This _can't _be Nathan. I spin around and press my arms to his chest and my suspicions are confirmed. It's the girl from before, the loony one. And she's angry – _very_ angry.

"Help!" I shriek. His/her hand comes over my mouth and muffles my cries. _This can't be happening_, I think frantically. _I didn't do anything wrong! _ "Please," I try, "I was the one who was nice to you!"

Suddenly, on the other side of the door, I hear the real Nathan's voice. "Marnie! Marnie!" he shouts. All I can do is cry, and he starts furiously banging on the door. With the help of some of the others, he's able to force it open. By the time they get in, however, Nathan's evil doppelganger is gone.

I fall into my boyfriend's arms, shaking hysterically. I clutch him in desperation, but he pulls me away from him and holds my head still with his hands. He's clearly inspecting me for damage. "Are you okay, are you all right?" he demands, his voice startlingly serious.

All I can do is nod; finally satisfied, he allows me to embrace him and kisses the top of my head. "Jesus," he mutters solemnly, "We're gonna find that fucker. We're gonna find that fucker, and we're gonna kill 'er like we did that fucking probation worker. It ain't gonna be pretty."

The others watch us interact in silence, clearly surprised by this new side of Nathan.

"That's actually really sweet," Kelly says finally.

"It's a shape shifter," Simon states, not wanting to talk about mine and Nathan's relationship. He then mentions something about Star Trek, but I can't be bothered to listen; I'm still too rattled up from being attacked.

"We should set up a password, so we can say it to each other and we'll know it's us," Simon suggests.

"Monkey-slut," is Nathan's valued input.

"We're not having monkey-slut as a password," Alisha states.

"What are the chances of that being used in a normal conversation? Kinda low, no?"

"Aw, just go wit' it," Kelly says. "Monkey-slut."

We then stalk through the locker room, looking to see if my assailant is still there. Unfortunately, there are two exits and therefore she might have escaped.

"We need to find out who it is before they go to the police," Curtis says.

It dawns on me then that in my trauma I'd forgotten to tell them. "I know who it is," I state suddenly. "It's that girl – the one Simon was talking to earlier."

"The crazy one?" Nathan asks.

"Yeah."

Suddenly, she appears out of nowhere.

"Lucy!" Simon says. She takes off through the door to the main room and immediately we're faced with our current probation worker.

"Right, I will see you tomorrow," he says rather merrily.

"Aw, yeah, good one," Nathan sneers in hatred, "Very convincing."

"It's not her!" Curtis says suddenly.

"What?" Nathan hisses.

According to Curtis, we've already been through this reality once, and I ended up killing him. Lovely.

"Alright, what's going on," he asks suspiciously.

"Nothing," Simon answers.

"Well you're obviously lying," he pauses, "But it's five o'clock! And I couldn't give a shit…" With that, he walks on, leaving us all very relieved. "Have a good one!"

We then sprint after Lucy and corner her in the office. When we're all inside, she's nowhere to be seen.

"Where's she gone?" Curtis demands.

"She's turned into a mouse!" Simon says.

She scurries away, behind the filing cabinet and out of sight.

"Get some cheese!" Nathan suggests.

"Are you serious?" Kelly scoffs.

We wait tensely by the filing cabinet, waiting for her to emerge. Simon is holding a crowbar when Curtis asks, "So what's the story with you and this girl?"

"After I tried to burn that boy's house down, they sent me to a psychiatric unit for assessment."

"Really? I can't imagine why," Nathan mocks.

"Lucy was a patient in the unit. I think she was obsessed with me."

"So is that it then, just that and the murder? Or is there anything else you'd like to share with the group?"

"You think I'd tell you anything after the way you've treated me – all the names you've called me!"

"What names?"

"Weird kid, panty-sniffer, virgin, freak, twat, pervert, pedophile, melon-fucker! I just want to be your friend…" At this moment, my heart actually goes out to poor Simon and I just want to give him a hug.

"Sure, man," Nathan says finally. I can tell that even he was touched by Simon's outburst.

"Alright," Curtis snickers.

Wanting to leave on a good note, I walk out and join Kelly and Alisha in the other room. They're talking about pornos and being shagged by dwarves and I start to reassess my decision. Suddenly, there's a huge ruckus in the other room; the boys are screaming and there are papers flying everywhere. We stand quickly and get ready to chase after that goddamned freak. Curtis comes rushing out and says, "Split up, find her!"

We do as we're told, and I end up upstairs, where Nathan used to sleep. There's no one up here, but I hear Nathan calling for help from the locker room. I rush down and see that Kelly, Simon, and Alisha are already there. Nathan is impaled on a pipe; I run over to him, but I'm not quite sure of what to do – they're all looking at me funny and I say, "Monkey-slut."

"Shit, does that hurt?" Alisha asks.

"Only when I breathe," he wheezes.

I grab one side of him and order Simon, "Help me get him down! He's going to die again, but we don't want him to wake up with this thing sticking through him." He does as I ask and soon he's sat against the wall.

Alisha notices a dead mouse on the floor and asks, "Shit, is that her?"

"It's just a mouse," he states, "The bad news is, the crazy girl knows the password. Monkey-slut is blown."

"She could be any one of us," Simon says shiftily.

"I think you can rule me out," Nathan replies.

We all deny being the culprit. "There's only one way to find out," Simon instructs, "Use your power."

Alisha goes first, making Simon mutter a whole slew of vulgar comments. "Cock, armpit, it wasn't pretty," Nathan updates Simon once the trance is broken. "You're up, do your thing."

"He doesn't need to," I interject, "Alisha's power doesn't work on women."

"Fair enough," Nathan continues, "You then, Kelly."

Suddenly, Curtis walks in and says, "Monkey-slut."

"That's not Curtis," Kelly says, "I can 'ear 'im finkin'."

"Use your power, turn back time," Alisha orders.

"You know it doesn't work like that," he insists.

Without warning, Kelly slugs him in the face with her baseball bat. Alisha runs off to find the real Curtis, leaving Simon, Nathan, and me as Kelly takes it upon herself to execute Lucy with a plastic bag.

"That's pretty brutal," Nathan warns.

"We can't kill her!" Simon protests.

"We 'ave to, she knows too much!"

"Stop!" Simon shouts. And suddenly, the lights go out.

"Nathan…" I murmur, growing worried.

"What was that?" Kelly demands.

Suddenly, the lights go on and Curtis escapes with his life; Simon's mobile starts ringing.

"Who is it?" Kelly asks frantically. The look in Simon's eye says it all.

"It's you."

Kelly's entire eyes go black and she smashes Simon's face against the locker. I go after her with the bat, hitting her square in the back. Enraged, she spins around and shoves me against the mirror. I slam my head on the glass, and everything goes black…

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_** Hope you all like it! If you guys also read my Teen Wolf fic, that will be updated really soon. Don't expect a fast update for this though, it'll probably be a while :-/**


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's note: Hey guys, I know it's been foooorrreeeevvvveeeerrrrr. I hope you'll forgive me. This chapter is very long, if that's any consolation. I've been watching season 4 and this story has had an influx of attention, so my inspiration has been somewhat restored. I hope you guys like it!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 14<strong>

When I open my eyes, it's as if I'm staring into a pool of rippled water; the images before me are distorted, shifting like they're in a funhouse mirror. And I think there's blood crusted over my left eye. Brilliant.

"Marnie, Marnie are ya all right?" I recognize Nathan's voice. As my vision begins to settle, I notice his green irises mere inches from my face. I flinch reactively, jerking forward and smashing our heads together. It feels as though I've just had my brains bashed in with a baseball bat, which makes sense because Nathan's skull is surely as dense as a brick. Pinpricks of pain travel throughout my entire head, and I swear I've never felt agony like this before. It's like a combination of having the worst hangover ever known to mankind and just waking up from brain surgery.

"Ow, Jesus!" he cusses, reeling back.

"Mmph" I squeak simultaneously as I cradle my forehead in my hands, only to pull them away and see that they're covered in blood. Great. Fantastic. What's happened to me now?

I watch as Nathan pinches the bridge of his nose as if to stop a nosebleed, despite the fact that I hit him in the head, not the nose, and (from what I can tell) is in far better shape than I am. At least he had the courtesy to move me from the locker room to the upstairs of the community center (the thought of Nathan carrying me anywhere sound unlikely… He probably had help from the others).

"Where is everyone?" I ask in what is halfway between a mumble and a groan.

"I'm fine, thanks for askin'," he snaps in reply. "Apart from the just having come back from the dead thing and, y'know, the recent _concussion_!"

"What happened?"

"That creep-o slammed your face in on the mirror," he explains, his tone tinged with anger. "It wasn't pretty."

"Why am I covered in blood?"

"I reckon a piece of glass nicked you above the eyebrow. I tried to clean it but it started bleedin' like a bitch again so I just let it be. I'd recommend a trip to a doctor in the near future because I think you're due for a few stitches."

"Lovely," I muttered.

"Yeah. We'd better get goin'."

"Going?"

"Doctor, your place, and then back here. We've got a probation worker to bury, after all…"

"Jesus, I forgot…"

"Okay, we're definitely going to the hospital now," he says semi-worriedly, hoisting me to my feet. "Amnesia's never a good sign…"

I can tell he's only half serious, but the fact that he is even _half serious_ is astounding. Am I on the way to doing the impossible? Is Nathan Young about to become pussy whipped? Only time would tell.

**xOx**

For a place where trouble lurked around every corner in forms ranging from shoplifters to shapeshifters, you'd think the hospital would only be a short walk away – but no. Whoever had planned Wertham probably figured its inhabitants were better off dead, and – to be fair – they weren't really that far off. We walk until my feet are starting to blister and I have half a mind to punch Nathan for not having Alisha drive us.

When we do finally reach the hospital, the A&E is predictably overflowing with myriad persons and maladies. Upon entering the building, our bloodstained orange jumpsuits and general state of disarray attract many an unwelcome glance, but soon we take a seat and dissolve into the mob of would-be patients. On my right is a little girl with a bucket firmly gripped in her hands and a greenish pallor enveloping her face, and on Nathan's left a man with a nail driven into the palm of his now-mutilated hand. It's going to be a while before a doctor sees us, that's for sure. _Ah, bureaucracy. _

All of a sudden, Nathan's phone starts buzzing and he scrambles dramatically to answer it. "Hello," he drawls with unmerited enthusiasm. Hundreds of eyes dart towards him, but he doesn't seem to notice. _Always the center of attention_, I muse.

"What? I – er – no, we're at the hospital. Sorry mate, it looks like we're gonna have to sit this one out!" There's an enraged and indecipherable ruckus on the other line. "Well hello there, Barry, what happened to our good friend Usain Bolt? …I see. Well then, as much as it pains me to say this, you're just gonna have to do it without us! No, you prick, I can't. Look, it took us thirty bloody minutes to walk here, and you're out of your fuckin' mind if you think I'm gonna leave 'er here alone after all that utter shit we just had to go through – which was your fault, by the way!" He then proceeds to flip his mobile closed, consequently ending the call.

"What was that about?" I hiss.

"The others want our help with… _that_ _thing _that we're supposed to do. Apparently, they're doin' it sooner than I thought. But I told them we are currently indisposed."

"Why were they so angry?"

"Oh I dunno, something about us all being in this together or some other homoerotic bollocks. I don't really give a shit, to be honest."

The mother of the girl with the bucket covers her daughter's ears and sends him a furious glare that would make a more decent man wince with remorse, but Nathan merely smiles cheekily at her.

Unsurprisingly, we're sat in the waiting room for what amounts to be a little over an hour and a half. When doctor finally sees us, things start to get more interesting – at least, in comparison to the mind-numbingly dull ninety minutes we'd just endured. Even Nathan's shenanigans couldn't relieve the boredom.

We walk down the institutionalized halls until we reach a paper-covered bench. The tired-looking doctor – Dr. Lowe, the nametag reads – adjusts his glasses and mechanically takes out a sanitation kit. Wordlessly, he inspects my gash as he dabs it with a cotton swab. Finally, he asks, "What happened to you?"

"I got in a fight," I answer vaguely.

He raises an unmanicured eyebrow; one glance to my orange jumpsuit puts his suspicions to rest. Oh, how I love to be judged…

"And you?" he asks, motioning to the spot where Nathan had been impaled.

"Oh I – er – that's from her."

"That's a lot of blood, even for a cut this deep," he replies sounding unconvinced. Nathan just shrugs. "It's that time of month," he hisses, covering his mouth conspiratorially, "She's into that kinky shit."

Completely mortified, I chastise, "Nathan! He's joking," I assure the doctor, who looks as if he really couldn't care less. Unfazed, he goes back to threading his needle (that sounds dirty when you think about it, doesn't it? Oh god, Nathan's rubbing off on me).

And for the record, stitches bloody _hurt_! He put a topical anesthetic on, but still!

"Try to be more careful next time," he sighs agitatedly as he sends me off.

"Will do. Thanks." And with that, we rush out and are finally free of the smell of blood and sick.

**xOx**

"Do you have anything that you want to get from your mum's house?" I ask Nathan once we're back at my flat.

"Nah, I got all the necessities from the community center," he says as he takes a carton of milk out of the fridge and sniffs the contents, before chugging what's left. I can already tell that living with someone else is going to be a radical change.

"So," he starts, eyebrows waggling, "whatcha say we call it a night and take this to the bedroom?"

"You've died tonight and I've _nearly_ died and all you can think about is shagging? Unbelievable."

"Hey, I've got needs," he protests. "_And _I've been through a trauma! Dyin' really takes a lot out of ya! Not to mention the pain – I'm definitely gonna be having nightmares tonight."

"I don't see what us shagging would do to remedy that," I point out, hands on my hips. "Anyway, did you even stop to think what _I've_ been through? I'm the one with ten stitches in my face, thank you very much."

"And it doesn't detract from your beauty in the least," he tries.

"Save it, it's not happening."

"_Ugh_," he groans loudly, following me closely as I walk into the bedroom.

To further his sexual frustration, I unabashedly strip out of my jumpsuit so that I'm in just my bra and knickers and collapse onto the mattress.

"Aw c'mon, you seriously think I'm going to be able to sleep with you lookin' like that next to me?" he whines.

I look up at him with a lethargic smirk and reply, "I hope so. You're going to need your rest for tomorrow."

He rolls his eyes exasperatedly and undresses to a tank top and his pants and reluctantly lies down next to me.

"This feels weird, just layin' here," he complains.

I'm so tired that my eyes just flutter closed. "It won't after awhile," I breathe quietly.

**xOx**

The next morning, all of us are lounging about on the rooftop on a rare sunny day. I swear, it always seems misty and overcast in this shithole, so I'm sure as hell going to enjoy the nice weather and spend as little time working as possible. The other share my sentiments, and for a short while it's quite nice, all of us hanging out together in a pleasant silence. But of course, Nathan has to go and do something to ruin it. He stands suddenly and surveys the landscape like some sort of king of misfit delinquents, before shedding his orange jumpsuit. It's an action which, admittedly, I have seen him perform more than once – never in broad daylight or in the company of our peers, however. He squirts a dollop of suntan lotion into his open palm and slathers it over his naked thighs. Despite the fact that I find him attractive, in this moment he actually looks quite grotesque. Kelly laughs, the rest of us grimace as he bites his lip in what appears to be an attempt at seduction.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing?" I finally ask, unable to sit back and watch any longer.

"Tryin' to catch some rays," he answers gruffly, turning around to expose his ass.

"Jesus Christ," I mutter, averting my gaze.

"Who says you can't have an ASBO and an all over tan?"

"God, that's wrong," Curtis manages, nearly retching.

Suddenly, someone whistles from the sidewalk and says, "I'm lookin' for Nathan."

"Why? Why are you looking for him? Who are you?" the man-child in question immediately responds, his voice sounding mildly concerned. I don't blame him – the way I see it, how often have people ever been looking for him for any positive reason? Exactly: never.

"I'm his brother," the faceless male replies.

Nathan makes a sound of disbelief. "I haven't got a brother. I'm a classic example of an only child." I snort because this is very true.

"Not anymore."

"How's that even possible?"

"We've got the same dad."

I sit up straight, now sufficiently intrigued. "And you're sure about that?" Nathan continues to interrogate.

"He didn't tell you about me?"

"I guess it slipped his mind!" He's perturbed, I can tell. As if he needed something else to worsen his relationship with his father… "Yeah okay," he says finally, "Hey, I've always wanted a brother!" With that, he pulls his jumpsuit back up and starts downstairs to meet his long-lost sibling. The rest of us follow out of sheer curiosity.

The boy standing before us seems to be roughly Nathan's age, maybe a few years younger. They don't really look alike, but they're both tall and lanky so I suppose there's a bit of a resemblance.

"Nice ta meet you…"

"Jamie," he finishes.

"Jamie. Well, seein' as you already know me, allow me to introduce my posse."

"We're _not_ your posse," Alisha deadpans, arms crossed.

"That's Alisha, that tall drink of water next to her is Curtis, the one with the ponytail is Kelly, the creepy lookin' bastard is Barry, and this – this sexy little creature is me girlfriend, Marnie."

"Your girlfriend? Really?" Jamie asks, unconvinced.

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

He looks to me for affirmation. "It's true," I sigh.

"Nice ta meet you all," Jamie says, fidgeting. "Look is there somewhere we can go to talk?" he asks Nathan.

"Well, my shift's not up for hours, but fuck it! Let's go to the pub – see you losers on the flip side." And without further ado, he just strides off, leaving us in his wake.

"What tha fook was that about?" Kelly asks.

"I _really_ don't give a shit," Alisha quips.

"We should get back to work," Simon suggests.

And so, we do. "This is fucking disgusting," Alisha says several minutes in. And it is. It truly is. We've been reduced to digging trash out of the pond, which is really more of a swamp. I just know I'm going to get some rare, tropical disease from this. Like Ebola or something similarly horrible. This has to be violating some sort of labor code of ethics, it just _has _to.

Just then, the bloody probation worker appears and passive aggressively asks where Nathan is.

"He's in the locker room," Simon answers without missing a beat.

"That's funny," he replies, "because I was just in there and I didn't see him."

"He had a family emergency," I try.

"What kind of emergency?"

"His brother came to see him," Curtis says.

"And how's that an emergency?"

"He's got cancer," Alisha snaps prissily.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah 'is brovah was like cryin' n' shit. It was really sad. Fink 'e needed a drink," Kelly adds.

"Oh alright, so Nathan's taken him to the pub, has he?"

None of us say anything.

"Well, when you put it like that…" I start.

"His brother hasn't got cancer, has he?"

"He might," I say defensively.

"He should feel for lumps… In his testicles…" Jesus, Simon, really? The probation worker's blank expression says it all. Luckily for us, he seems bored of the inquisition and starts off.

"Well that was awkward," I mumble, fishing a fresh bit of god-knows-what out of the water. Oh god, I think it's a condom… Why the fuck are there always so many laying around here? People need to throw this shit away, I mean really! Completely nasty...

After an hour or so I realize something rather startling – as boring as community service is, it's actually ten times _more_ boring without Nathan. Strange. I mean, I knew I would miss him. Of course I would. But it's been, like, hours. That's hardly anything. I feel a bit pathetic, really. I would have thought it'd been a bit peaceful without him, but it's really just tedious. Time moves unbearably slowly, but eventually the day ends and I head home, still without having heard from him.

**xOx**

At around six, I hear the door to my flat open.

"Nathan?"

"Yeah, it's me." He sounds down, which is incredibly unusual for him. I begin to grow worried.

"Is everything all right?" When I see him, I notice a drop of blood on his shirt and a bit around his nose. Standing toe to toe with him, I question, "What happened to you?"

"Nothing, I'm fine. Just took a hit to the face, nothing major."

It isn't until I tear my eyes away from his face that I realize we're not alone; Jamie is there, too.

"Hey, I – uh – I don't have to stay here, I didn't mean to intrude…" He sounds equally melancholy, and I can't help but wonder what happened to make them so somber.

"I told him it was all right – he doesn't have anywhere else to go," Nathan explains, puppy-dog eyes bearing into my own. "It's only for tonight."

"It's fine. Here, have a beer," I say, taking a six-pack out of the refrigerator. "What did you guys do today?"

"It's a long story," Nathan sighs, "It's probably best if we don't go into detail. Let's just say we paid our dear old dad a little visit."

"I take it it didn't go well?"

"It never does. Once a prick, always a prick. I didn't expect this time to be any different."

As sad as Nathan sounds, Jamie looks even more forlorn. He sits on the couch, beer in hand, staring into space.

"Is he alright?" I whisper.

"Yeah. He'll be fine."

I touch Nathan's hand and see a whole slew of things: a fist coming towards my face, a kid with a crowbar, a speeding car, a man with his wrists bound in duct tape – Nathan's dad – their dad. And then I'm at the police station and I'm yelling about how he was a shit father, how he was never there for me, for Jamie, and tears prick the back of my eyes. Startled, I pull my hand away and Nathan looks at me knowingly.

"I guess I don't need to explain myself, then," he mutters darkly, taking a seat next to his brother.

All I can do is stare. I know he cares about his parents more than he lets on, but what surprises me most is that he isn't sad for himself, he's sad for his brother – this kid he's just met. He already feels an attachment to him. I always thought Nathan was incredibly selfish, but this disproves that more than anything else I've seen from him. What he felt… it was genuine. I never realized how alone he thought he was. He wants to help Jaime, to be there for him – to make up for what he himself didn't have. Surely it's a manifestation of the abandonment he felt as a child – he can relate. But still, the fact remains that he feels a sincere affection for his brother and wants alleviate his pain.

"The others are going out tonight," I say in an attempt to raise their spirits, "you want to come?"

"Yeah sure, that sounds like a good time," Jamie answers.

The curly-haired Irishman immediately perks up. "I'll teach you how to pull women, little brother. It'll be great!" Nathan says, quickly jumping on board. I clear my throat and send him a pointed look while Jamie snickers.

"I don't think so," I say.

"Just because I've got myself a guaranteed shag, it doesn't mean I've forgotten about the little people. I'll be the best wingman you've ever had, bro."

"_Bro_?"

"Yeah, it's a new thing. I'm trying it out. Shut it."

"Well, I'm ready to go when you both are," I say, rolling my eyes.

"Alright, let's bounce," Nathan says dramatically, chugging the remainder of his beer. Someone has been watching too much American telly. Jamie is close behind. I follow, wondering if I'm going to regret my suggestion. I probably will. Oh well, nothing out of the ordinary. Plus, this new sensitive side of Nathan (barring the ridiculous lingo) is actually a turn on.

We meet the others a club/warehouse that's playing rave music. Curtis and Alisha look as if they're about to go at it and I notice that it's weird to see Kelly without her hair pulled back. Huh. She's actually not bad once she's cleaned up.

A brunette that looks just enough like me to send a jolt of worry through my body walks up to Nathan. She's his type, if I'm any indication of a pattern. I weave my arm possessively with his and give her a look that could freeze fire.

"Who are you?" I ask bluntly. She looks from my arm to Nathan's and quickly pieces the puzzle together.

"I called her," Jamie interjects, coming seemingly out of nowhere. "We met at the pub earlier today." He hands each me and Nathan a beer, despite the fact that Nathan's smuggled in an entire bottle of vodka. Looks like I'm about to be blackout...

Jamie's now talking to the slag from the pub and I think I hear him mention something about pills. Sounds a bit sketchy. But, thanks to peer pressure, everyone including me ends up taking one – apart from Simon, that is. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jamie drop one into his beer. Sneaky, sneaky. He shouldn't have done that. I'm not a fan of drugging unsuspecting virgins, no matter how creepy they may seem.

"I don't usually take pills," I admit to Nathan breathlessly. God, am I fucked up. That was _fast_. I mean, I did have six shots of Nathan's vodka in Jaime's car on the way over, but still! We're dancing together and everything around me seems so… flashy, is the only word that comes to mind. The strobe thingy is messing with my brain. I can't see properly. The lights, the music, it's all too much.

"Neither do I," Nathan says with a grin, his lips centimeters from mine.

I grab him as we dance, and something _really_ weird happens. He pulls me close, eyes glassy, and suddenly says, "Oh my fucking _god. _These drugs are mental! It's like my whole body is on fire."

"What?"

"It's like – erm – it's like a feeling. I dunno. I can sense that, like, you like me. It's weird. Somethin' weird," he slurs.

Neither of us is coherent. I'm drunk, I'm high, and now I'm horny. "I _do_ like you," I murmur flirtatiously, closing the gap between us as the bass from the stereo rattles the entire building.

All of a sudden we're making out and every one of my senses is being bombarded. The sound of electronic music fills my ears, my head is reeling, and my eyesight is completely fucked. It probably isn't the best idea to drink and pop god-knows-what pills the day after suffering what was most likely a concussion, but fuck it. Before I know it, Nathan's maneuvered us to a bathroom stall and I'm too overwhelmed to even know what's happening. I would normally wholeheartedly object to fucking in a men's room stall. That's textbook trashy whore behavior. But right now I can't be bothered.

"Shut up in there!" someone bangs from the other side.

"Go fuck yourself!" Nathan manages through laying kisses along my neck. My legs are wrapped around his waist and I'm pressed against the filthy wall. The music only reaches the bathroom in dull rumbles, shockwaves cascading under the men's room door and up the metal walls.

I gasp. "Nathan I – "

"I know," he mutters against my skin. "Marnie…"

I let out another mewling noise and hear Nathan curse, "Shit" under his breath. He's definitely enjoying this. Not that he doesn't usually, but these drugs are really making things more intense. Speaking of intense, it's then that I realize something – usually by this point in the process and my power starts kicking in, and right now it isn't.

All of a sudden, his grip on me slips and I'm nearly sent tumbling onto the grimy tile. "What the fuck?" I protest breathlessly as he catches me just in time.

"I just saw… I think I just saw your memories," he mumbles in a confused haze.

"Whadoyou mean?"

"I saw… after I came back… all that immortality shit… in my bedroom…" he fairly pants.

"It must be the pills," I manage. "Don't stop…"

And he doesn't. I can't imagine that anything on earth could get in the way of Nathan and the opportunity to have sex.

However, we're halfway through the deed and there's another banging on the side of the stall. "I thought I told you to piss off!" he grunts.

"It's me, Simon!"

"I'm kinda busy at the moment!" he says without stopping. I bit my lip and screw my eyes shut in a desperate attempt to keep from crying out. I know Simon knows what we're doing, but it doesn't need to be _that_ obvious.

"This is important! Your brother's car is on fire and he's inside!"

Nathan actually drops me this time, stunned. All at once I'm on the cold ground and he is fixing his jeans at lightning speed, sober panic etched into his face. I compose myself as well and rush after him as he bolts out of the bathroom.

"Wait!" Simon calls after us, "The pills! They reverse our powers! Make you don't get…" I don't hear the end of the sentence, but I know he's about to say killed. Well shit. That's concerning.

When I get outside, I see Jamie's car engulfed in flames, a fiery beacon against the surrounding blackness. Nathan is running straight towards it, calling his brother's name. No, no, no, he's reaching for the door… "NATHAN, STOP!" I shriek in horror. I can't go after him I won't reach him in time. It's too dangerous, it's too dangerous, the metal is hissing and crunching. It's a deathtrap, a ticking time bomb of sharp objects waiting to impale the nearest unfortunate soul.

Out of nowhere comes a figure dressed in all black; he looks like some sort of Special Forces agent and his face is completely hidden. He tackles Nathan and yanks him away from the burning vehicle.

"Get off me!" is Nathan's heart wrenching cry. "My brother's in there! Jamie!" His arms are pinned, however, despite his thrashing. Suddenly, the car erupts and bits of blazing metal go flying everywhere. He would have surely been killed if he'd been even a foot closer. When the explosion is over the figure disappears into an alleyway and Nathan starts back towards the car, still desperately chanting Jamie's name. I run after him and try to pull him back.

"It's no use!" I say. "Your power's not working – the pills – you have to stay away!"

"Let go of me," he shouts, twisting out of my grip. "Jamie!"

"Nathan, it's too late!" I continue to try to usher him away from the flames, but to no avail. Finally, he pushes me off of him and sends me backwards into the dirt. I scrape my hands and look up in disbelief. _Fine. If he wants space, I'll give him space_, I think bitterly. I turn around and see Simon watching the scene. Good. If Nathan gets into deep shit, Simon will help him. I'm done. I storm onto the road and begin walking back towards my flat. Nathan'll come around eventually. Soon, I hope. But I don't count on seeing him again tonight.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: So yes, I know it's been a very long time. Please let me know what you thought of this. I can't guarantee that a specific number of reviews will get me to update this in a timely fashion, but know that feedback will certainly help.<strong>


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's note: Hello guys! I've had a lot of inspiration lately, hence another (really, really, super long!) chapter. I finally feel like I can continue this with a real purpose in mind instead of just going along with the show, so as we keep going it's going to diverge more and more from the storyline. **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 15<strong>

I run into Nathan in the locker room of the community center more than twenty-four hours after I last saw him. I walk in and watch him lean his head against the cold metal of his locker, broken, tear-stained, and – strangest of all – completely silent. He's surely more out of character than I've ever seen him before and I know immediately why. Jamie is dead. He must be – no one could have survived that fire. His brother is dead.

My anger slowly melts away; I can temporarily forgive him for shoving me into the dirt because, right now, he needs me. I understand why he treated me the way he did and because of this I don't hold it against him. He was overwhelmed by what was happening – he didn't know what he was doing.

I approach him quietly and gain his attention by touching his shoulder and turning his body towards me. Without a word, he collapses into my arms and his neutral expression contorts into one of pain. He disintegrates into what I initially suspect might be tears, but I soon realize that he's too stubborn to let them fall. He just stays like that, grimace etched into his face, teetering on the brink of crying but not falling over the edge.

"Jamie's dead," he mumbles into the fabric of my clothing. His arms wrap around my waist so tightly that I feel more like a teddy bear than a person.

"I know," I soothe, stroking the curls at the base of his head. I do not use my power to see what happened because I do not wish to experience such sorrow. I'd be of no use if I were equally distraught.

"I can… I can see dead people," he explains, pulling his head away from my shoulder to look me in the face. He's a bit more matter-of-fact, now, and less distressed. But tears still collect in his eyes and glimmer under the fluorescent lighting.

"_What_?"

"Yeah, there's the thing. It must be cos I'm immortal. I was with him for a solid ten hours before he told me, that prick. I musta looked like some sort of loony talking to myself all that time…"

"Is he… here now?"

"Nah he went off with Lily a little while ago… After forcin' me to reconcile with my dad."

"Lily?"

"The bird from the pub. They were both in the car, shagging. I suppose that's as good a way to die as any… But still, I just… I just feel so _guilty_. I _never _feel guilty! He wanted my dad to like him so badly, but he's just such a shit parent. Jamie deserved better. Maybe I don't, but he did… And he never even got a chance to _try_ to make it work – it was over before it even began! I had my whole life… _I'm_ the one who had the opportunity to fix things with him and I didn't even want it. It just seems so unfair…"

"It's not your fault, though," I assure him, touched. "That's not on you. If it's anyone's fault, it's your dad's – he's the one who should feel guilty, not you."

"I know, but it still seems so _wrong_," he insists.

"Look, you were there for him more than your dad was. You were good to him – you should be glad about the way you left it."

"I guess," he grumbles. He doesn't seem wholly convinced, but I can't think of anything else to say to console him though I desperately wish I could.

Suddenly, Simon comes in and interrupts our private interaction. Nathan's hands slide off of my body, leaving the skin beneath my jumpsuit missing their warmth. I entwine my fingers with his, not wanting to completely sever the contact between us.

"Er – sorry," Simon stammers awkwardly. His eyes dart from our faces to our hands and back to our faces with a certain disconcerting shiftiness. "I just – erm – I just wanted to say… The guy in the mask – the one who saved you – I followed him. I know where he lives.

"Yeah? What do you want us to do about it?" Nathan deadpans, locking eyes with me. He's clearly irked that Simon walked in on us. Simon of all people is not supposed to see Nathan vulnerable.

"I – I think we should go 'round and talk to him."

"Why?" I ask, also irritated.

"He's watching us – Alisha ran into him, too. We should see what he wants."

"Fine. Whatever you say," I replied shortly. And with that, Nathan slams his locker door closed and we head out to meet the others.

**xOx**

Simon leads us to a nondescript flat and Alisha immediately rings the doorbell. After several moments, no one answers.

"So, what do we do now?" she asks impatiently.

Kelly wordlessly grabs a nearby stool and shatters the window, much to everyone's surprise and dismay.

"Jesus," Nathan cusses.

"Aw, subtle! I'm sure no one heard that," Curtis drawls sarcastically.

Every now and then, Curtis will have a well timed and hilarious one-liner – I can't help but laugh out loud at his statement. Nathan sends me a sidelong glance, as if to tell me _he's_ the only one I should be laughing at.

Kelly merely gives us a cheeky grin and unlocks the door; we all follow her inside. It's a dingy flat, vaguely similar to my own but with more expensive décor. As we start rifling through the owner's things, it becomes glaringly obvious that this is a woman's flat and not the headquarters of some masked crusader.

"This is a girl's bedroom," Kelly says, voicing everyone's thoughts. (Ha! How appropriate).

"Whoever it was is _clearly_ a cross-dresser," I mumble wryly.

"Something's wrong," says Simon.

Nathan is standing on the woman's bed, an alarming sort of look growing on his features. Suddenly, he says, "I'm gonna take a shit on his bed," as if it were the most brilliant idea anyone had ever had.

"What?" Kelly exclaims.

"I don't think you should do that," Simon advises.

"Don't be an asshole," I sigh. Sometimes I feel like I'm dealing with a child; in fact, _all _the time I feel like I'm dealing with a child. Except when… well… you know. I'm not a paedophile!

"We need to send him a message – let him know he can't fuck with us," Nathan defends.

"And how does takin' a shit in his bed do that exactly?" Curtis sneers.

Again, I'm inclined to side with Curtis. Twice in one day – maybe I should've chosen him from the beginning.

"Erm, I thought we established that whoever lives here is _not_ a he?" I pipe in.

"Well, they did it in the Godfather," Nathan reasons, ignoring me.

"That was a horse's head, you twat!" I snap.

"Well, have you got a horse's head?"

"Just leave it, Nathan, _seriously_," I warn. By now, Curtis has actually stormed out and Nathan has begun undoing his trousers. When it becomes apparent that he's actually going to do it, everyone – including me – files out of the room. I'm very cross at this point. I thought I'd seen it all from him, but this is actually a new low.

When we're all in the other room (barring Nathan), Simon announces, "This isn't his flat." No shit.

"Then why did 'e lead os 'ere?" Kelly demands.

"Maybe he knew I was following him."

Curtis lets out an exasperated breath and says, "I'm done," before exiting the flat. Before he actually makes it out the door, however, a girl stops him and interrogates, "Who are you? Why are you in my flat?" Oh shit. Fuck. This is not good.

"Someone grab me some toilet paper!" I hear Nathan yell from the bedroom. I smirk to myself – poor girl has no idea what she's getting into.

"Nathan run!" I call out of begrudging obligation. In seconds, all of us book it out of the flat.

**xOx**

The next day, we're on the side of the motorway picking up rubbish.

"Now put all that shit in that skip," the probation worker instructs us.

"Would it kill ya to dress it up a bit?" Curtis spits back.

"Put all that shit in that skip please," he annunciates flatly.

"Sometimes I wonder if you take this job _entirely_ seriously," Nathan taunts sarcastically.

The older man gives him a blank stare and replies, "I am one-hundred percent committed to your ongoing rehabilitation. It occupies my every waking minute."

It's completely obvious that he's taking the piss, and Nathan makes a face to broadcast his dissatisfaction. The probation worker then proceeds to march towards his car.

"Where're ya goin'?" Kelly asks, hands firmly planted on her hips.

"For a coffee and a Danish." He then gives us a mocking grin and drives off, leaving Kelly with her mouth agape.

"Smug bastard," Nathan grumbles.

"Reminds me of someone," I quip, giving him a teasing wink. I walk towards an abandoned refrigerator and he follows me like a lost puppy. The scenery around us is fucking eerie. It's like we're in a barren wasteland or some sort of surreal, nightmarish, alternate reality. The sky above us is its customary bleak gray. The train hums past in the distance.

Nathan opens the fridge and pulls out a lone beer; without hesitation, he pops it open and takes a swig, before offering it to me.

"That's disgusting," I state tonelessly.

"Suit yourself. The way I figure it, this would be infinitely more entertaining with a bit of a buzz."

"You're not going to get a buzz from one beer."

"I might if I drink it fast enough! Plus, I haven't had any breakfast…"

"That's not true, you had half my toast," I remind him agitatedly.

"Psh, that's hardly anything." Without further ado, he chugs down the remnants of the warm beer. I'm actually slightly impressed by the speed with which he finishes the beverage. When he's done, he throws the can to the ground and smacks his lips loudly. Several seconds later, he belches.

"Aw, nasty," Alisha groans.

I fan the air in front of me to get rid of the stench. "You can be really vile," I tell him.

"Aw love, don't be so judgmental! You know what's vile – that hairball I had to pull out of the drain this morning! Now _that_ was vile."

My cheeks heat up in embarrassment and the others actually laugh at this, only furthering my mortification. I slap Nathan hard on the shoulder. It's hard to believe that only yesterday we shared such a tender moment in the locker room. He must have some sort of split personality, I swear…

"You two are livin' together?" Curtis questions in disbelief. "How does that work? You with him?"

I merely shrug, unable to come up with a suitable response. "Don't sound so surprised, mate," Nathan says pompously.

"I can't believe that. You're such a dickhead, and she's so quiet."

"You know what they say, opposites attract and all that," Nathan brushes him off. "I mean, how could she resist _this_?" He starts thrusting the air to emphasize his point and Curtis turns away in repulsion.

"I don't get it," he mutters under his breath.

"So what are you all up to later today?" Nathan asks the rest of the gang, changing the subject.

"I'm 'aving me tattoo fixed," Kelly answers as everyone else ignores him.

"Sounds painful," Nathan comments. She simply shrugs in response.

"You know, I was thinking about getting a tattoo," I consider aloud.

"You _were_?" Nathan demands, spinning around to face me.

"Yeah. Just a small one – on my wrist. Like where yours is. Would you mind if I come with you, Kelly?" I question.

"Yeah a'right," she agrees cheerily.

"When were you gonna consult me about this?" Nathan questions.

"I'm sorry, seeing as it's _my_ body I didn't think I needed to ask your permission."

"Seeing as _I'm_ the one who's most invested in how it looks, I think I should have a say!"

"Do you object? You have a couple, so what does it matter if I get one?"

"It doesn't, I just would've liked to be included in the decision!"

I roll my eyes and say, "Whatever. I'm getting one."

"Well then I'm coming with you both. You need someone there to make sure whoever does it doesn't fuck it up!"

"How would your being there affect anything?"

"I don't know, I'll intimidate him into gettin' it right. Plus, it's gonna hurt. You're gonna want me there, love. You're gonna need to hold my hand."

"I doubt it. But fine, come if you want." With that, I go back to picking up litter.

**xOx**

Kelly, Simon, Nathan, and I make our way to the tattoo parlor as soon as our shift is up. The name of the place is "Vince's tattoos" or something like that. Once inside, we are confronted with the sight of various painful-looking photos of "Vince's" work, including an image of someone's cock. I immediately start rethinking my decision.

However, he touches Kelly's tattoo up first and seems to take a fancy to her – he even asks her out for a drink once her curfew's done. After this, I decide he seems nice enough (a little eccentric, though, judging by the conversation he has with Nathan about his ex-girlfriend), so I decide to go through with it.

"All I want is an epsilon sign right here," I explain, pointing to the outer edge of my left wrist. "It's supposed to look like a backwards three."

"Epsilon is the Greek letter E," Simon says abruptly. "E for..."

I give him a surprised grin. "Yeah, very good. That was quick." E for empath. That's what I am, an empath.

He nods in acknowledgement, uncomfortable under my praise.

"I don't get it," Nathan states inelegantly.

Simon whispers some sort of explanation to him and Kelly, but I don't hear it.

As the needle first pierces my skin, I talk to the others to distract myself from the pain and nervousness. "You should get one too, Simon," I suggest.

"I have a phobia of needles," he says, wide-eyed. Discouraged, I turn my attention to Nathan. He is still studying the photos on the walls, but he seems to understand that I want someone to distract me.

"Hey Marnie, how 'bout this one?" he asks pointing to a tattoo of a rose. "Now would you fancy me even more if I had this, or does it look a bit gay to you?" As soon as the words leave his mouth he pretends to notice for the first time that the tattoo he's talking about is on Vince's neck. _Oh Nathan, what are you doing? Why can't you just act normal for once in your life…_ "_Oh_," he grits out. "I mean it would look gay on me, just cos I've got a beautiful face, but you get away with it, with your face – I'm not sayin' you're ugly, er – you've looked in the mirror… No offense, man," he babbles on insincerely.

I cast my gaze up at Vince and see that he looks none too pleased. However, he replies, "None taken."

All of a sudden, Nathan flinches and rubs his shoulder. "What's the matter, babe?" I ask him. I can't help but be amused by the effect he has on people. He may be going to hell, but I'll be right there with him.

"Nothing," he brushes me off. "Don't call me that."

"What?"

"You're all set," Vince tells me, covering my new ink with a bandage. I pay him and stand to leave, eying Nathan strangely. Kelly and Simon seem to sense something's wrong too.

Once we're walking outside, Nathan says, "You want to grab a drink?"

"Sure," I say.

"Not _you_!" he scoffs.

"What?" Kelly and I ask simultaneously.

"Who's askin' you, I was talkin' to him," he says, motioning to Simon.

"Are you taking the piss?" I question rudely.

"Look, this is more of a boy's night," he explains passionately. "We're gonna have some quality man time – beer, football, maybe some wrestling?"

"Why are you bein' such a dick?" Kelly asks.

Nathan looks from her to me with an odd expression on his face. After considering his thoughts for several moments, he grabs Simon by the arm and says, "C'mon man, let's go watch some wrestling… We don't need them."

As they walk away from Kelly and me, Simon turns back and gives us a confused and distressed glance. When they're out of sight, Kelly turns to me and asks, "Wot the fook was that?"

"I honestly have no idea. That was fucking weird, even for him. It might be good for them, though… Simon seems like he needs a mate."

"Yeah, but wot if he's just makin' fun of 'im again?"

"I don't know, I talked to him about that. I don't think he'd do it after the conversation we had."

"A'right… Well, ya want ta go to the pub?"

"Sure," I agree. Maybe it'll be nice to hang out with just Kelly for a bit. I can't help but think that I haven't had much one on one time with anyone besides Nathan.

**xOx**

"So, wot's it with you n' Nathan?" Kelly asks me after taking a sip of her pint and licking the foam of her upper lip. She sounds rather casual, but I can tell that she's wanted to ask this for a while.

"What do you mean?"

"Like, you're togevah, right? 'e's such a prick ta ya, why'dya stay wit' 'im? We all fink it's dead weird. We saw ya after 'e died or wotevah and we thought maybe 'e'd change, but 'e just went right back into it after 'e came back. I don't get why ya stick around."

"I don't know, I guess because I know he doesn't mean it. With my power… I can tell how he really feels. It makes it easier to get past all the shit he says."

"So 'e's not really as full of it as 'e seems?"

"No, he is… For the most part," I say, "But deep _deep_ down there's more to him."

"It must be nice, your powah."

"I don't mind it," I say. "I know you don't like yours, though."

"I fookin' 'ate it," she confirms. "I guess it can be useful sometimes, but for the most part it's fookin' 'orrible."

"I'm sorry… At least it's not like Alisha's, though."

"Yeah, I guess it could be worse…"

We talk like this for several hours before heading our separate ways. I like Kelly. She has a good heart, I can tell. Sure, she's rough around the edges – but that doesn't mean she's not a good person. I feel awful for judging her so quickly when I first met her.

When I return to the flat it's around eleven and Nathan is nowhere to be seen. It's strange that he should be with Simon for all this time, so I call him – there's no answer.

"Hey, it's me," I start. "Where are you? Call me back and let me know you're okay, yeah? And don't even think about trying to pull girls, because your arse will be back living in the community center faster than you can say you're fucking sorry."

I pace around the flat for a bit and do a crossword puzzle as I wait for him to come home. By around one, there's still no sign of him. I call him and get his answering machine again. Now I'm sufficiently worried – I can't think of any valid reason why he wouldn't come home. He was acting very strange earlier, though. Maybe he's going through some sort of mental crisis…

I decide to go to bed. If I don't see him tomorrow, then the others and I will deal with it. I'm sure he's fine. He was with Simon… Simon wouldn't leave him in a bad predicament. Plus, Nathan can't be killed. I nearly forgot – my mind is now much more at ease. The only thing I'm truly worried about is him cheating on me, but, from what I've felt, he wouldn't do that to me. Or at least, I'd be very surprised if he did. I'm sure everything will be clarified in the morning. I'll just ask Simon what happened.

**xOx**

"He kissed me," was Simon's blunt response to my interrogation the next morning.

"_What_?" So he _did_ cheat on me. With Simon. What the fuck?

Kelly is there too, and she seems more disbelieving than surprised. "Nathan kissed ya," she repeats, unconvinced.

"He put his tongue in my mouth," he says slowly, clearly traumatized.

"Are you sure he wasn't just joking?" I ask, unable to comprehend what he is telling me. I didn't think Nathan would ever take a joke that far, but maybe I've underestimated him.

"He tried to take my trousers off!" he defends dreadfully.

"Are _you _joking?" I demand.

Simon shakes his head. "He said he wanted to do some _'dry humping_.'"

I almost laugh. Almost. Kelly's mouth is hanging open and I can tell that she too is trying to suppress her amusement. "Wot did you do?" she questions, entertained.

"I left! Very quickly."

I search Simon's face and grab his hand. I'm sent back to what happened last night, and, sure enough, he's telling the truth. Nathan doesn't really seem like he's just dicking around.

"I've got to go," I mumble, setting off to find him. A troubled-looking Kelly and Simon watch me go.

Nathan has a _lot_ of explaining to do…

When I find the man in question, he's sat on the roof writing some sort of florid note. I march over to him purposefully and kick his chair over, sending him tumbling to the ground.

"Jesus! What the fuck are you doing?" he demands hysterically.

"I should be asking you the same question!" I shout. "What the fuck was all that about last night? With Simon? What are you tryin' to do? You nearly gave the poor kid an aneurism! What the _fuck_ were you thinking? You _kissed _him!" To further my point, I cuff him on the back of the head.

"No need to kick a man while he's down!" he protests, scrambling to his feet. "Alright, so I got a little bit fresh with him! I was starin' into those big, beautiful eyes. He's like a – he's like a handsome shark. I couldn't help myself. I love him."

"Do you even hear yourself?" I snap. "What's the matter with you? Have you gone completely mental?"

"I'm sorry if my feelings for him offend you! But they're true – and pur – well, they're true! And I can't pretend any longer – I won't!"

I storm over to him and grab his wrist, forcing him to face me. He's… telling the truth? I drop his wrist like I've been scalded.

"Nathan," I say gravely, "What is this?"

"I love him," he repeats.

"What about me?"

"What about you? Look, I'm sorry, but he's the only one for me! He completes me! Maybe he's what I was always missing – why do you think I was always so mean to him?"

"Because you're a fucking prick, that's why! So what, you're gay now? Overnight?"

"Gay, straight, retarded – why do we have to put labels on everything?"

"Because I need to know! You're not making any sense – I have literally no idea what the fuck's going on right now!"

"What's going on? I'll tell you what's going on! I'm finally doing it – I'm finally admitting that I _love_ him!"

"_Nathan_," I say in a half whine-half moan, pleading with him to snap out of it. "I know for a fact you did not love him twenty-four hours ago. Something's happened to you, and I'm going to find out what it is." Without another word, I start back towards the door. The others will help me – I'm sure of it. I can't imagine that Simon wants this to persist any longer.

**xOx**

At the end of the day in the locker room, I see Nathan sexually harass Simon. I don't even intervene. I don't know what to do anymore; I just watch, morbidly fascinated. Something is _seriously_ wrong with him.

Kelly looks to me as Nathan has the poor guy pressed against the lockers. "I think maybe we should just kill him and see what happens," I suggest, causing her to snicker. "Maybe it's like turning a computer on and off – maybe it'll refresh his brain or something."

"We could try it," she jokes.

As we watch them, I notice that Nathan has a strange new tattoo on his shoulder – it's a heart that reads "Simon" in the center. Eventually, Nathan exits the room, leaving Simon looking positively scarred for life.

"Didya know that 'e 'as a tattoo done wit' your name one it?" Kelly asks.

"No," he manages.

"That fucking dick!" I exclaim suddenly. "That tattoo artist – he did this to him!"

Simon looks at me with bright eyes. "I think you must be right," he says, voice heavy with relief.

"Oh is that bastard going to hear from me," I grumble menacingly, rolling up the sleeves of my shirt.

"Let me do it," Kelly interjects, stopping me as I go to leave. "I fink 'e fancied me. Maybe 'e'll listen if I ask 'im."

"Okay," I agree. "But please go as soon as possible. I can't deal with this any longer."

Kelly nods sharply and sets out.

**xOx**

Simon and I walk into the locker room the next morning to see something atrocious – Kelly has a tattoo on her shoulder identical to Nathan's, except instead of "Simon," it reads, "Vince."

"Oh no," I mutter.

Simon's brow furrows together and I can tell that he is equally unnerved by this new development. "That's not good," he replies quietly, stating the obvious.

Nathan comes in soon enough; he removes his shirt and soon he and Kelly are admiring their tattoos in the mirror.

"I don't even remember 'avin' it done," Kelly says.

"Me neither! I don't regret it, though, not one little bit…" Nathan replies, giving Simon an intense look. I can only stare, by this stage. I'm not even angry.

"The tattoos are controlling you," Simon deadpans. "The tattoo guy must've done them."

"Eh, Vince wouldn't do that, 'e loofs me," she defends.

"That's your tattoo talking."

"Cute _and_ clever!" Nathan exclaims. He tries to touch Simon, who immediately swats his hand away.

"And that's yours."

"Look, we have to go to the tattoo parlor and get this sorted _right now_," I say. "I can't deal with this any longer."

I angrily walk out toward the patio, the others trailing close behind; Curtis joins us once we're outside of the locker room. When we're out of the building, however, Kelly and Nathan take a seat at one of the picnic tables.

"We need to go to the tattoo parlor and get him to remove the tattoos," Simon insists.

"I really don't fink 'e did it," Kelly disputes.

"Nah, I need to find Alisha, we 'ad a big fight," Curtis says.

"Hey man, love _hurts_, okay? It chews you up and spits you out, like a big ball of mucus," Nathan says, directing his comments at Simon.

"Wow, that was really poetic – is that Keats?," I snap.

All of a sudden, Curtis notices something and we all look to see what he's staring at; on the roof is the very same masked figure that had saved Nathan.

"That's him!"

"We can see that."

"Wot does 'e want?"

The man just stands there, still as a statue. "Hi," Simon tries. Nathan gives him a wave. "You alright there, fella?"

Suddenly, the man reaches into his belt. "He's got a gun!" Nathan shouts, jumping up to shield Simon with his own body. The rest of us just duck down.

However, what he takes out is decidedly _not _a gun. He tosses a packet on the ground in front of us and does a back flip out of view.

"Show off," I murmur.

Simon extricates himself from Nathan's firm grip and picks up the packet. "It's peanuts," he informs us. "Dry roasted."

"All that drama, he drops off a snack?"

"Why's 'e givin' os peanuts?"

"Maybe he knows I missed lunch," Nathan retorts to everyone's – especially Curtis' – annoyance. "I suppose you've got a better explanation than that?"

"Anything – anything you could possibly come up with – would be better than that," he growls, stalking towards the curly-haired Irishman.

"Alright, touchy, just cos you and your girlfriend split up –"

Nathan is cut off by Curtis shoving him and shouting, "We didn't split up!"

The assaulted party raises his hands in surrender. "Alright," he concedes.

There's a tense moment, which Simon interrupts by suggesting, "We should go to the tattoo parlor. "Are you coming?"

"Nah," Curtis says, glaring at Nathan. "I'll see you lot tomorrow."

"Okay fine, let's go," I press. "I just want to get this over with."

We enter the tattoo parlor, which is at first eerily empty. After several seconds, however, Vince materializes.

"Ah, there he is, Mr. Dick," Nathan greets. Everyone looks a bit confused. I think he's just calling him a dick, which is accurate, but apparently not. "Because of the tattoo? On your cock?"

"So what is this?" he asks gruffly.

"We know about the tattoos," Simon states.

"I told 'em you didn't do it," Kelly snaps.

"Just get rid of the fucking tattoos," I order.

Vince cracks into an exceedingly creepy smile. "Or what?" he laughs.

"Or get ready to feel the pain!"

"You're not gonna 'urt 'im!" Kelly then walks over to the tattoo artist.

"You're on our side!" Nathan protests.

"You're so fit," she says to Viince, grabbing onto him.

"Get rid of the bloody tattoos!" I reiterate.

He points his pen at me and all of a sudden there's a crippling pain in my abdomen; I hunch over as everyone looks at me. I lift up the hem of my shirt to see a tattoo of a knife sliding into my stomach. "Stop it!" I yell shrilly in agony. "He's stabbing me!"

My legs start to buckle beneath me, but Nathan catches me and gently sets me on the floor. "You're all right, you're all right," he says.

"She stays, you go," Vince orders.

"Do something!" I tell the boys.

"Right, right, right," Nathan chants. "… What do we do?"

All of a sudden, Simon removes the packet of peanuts and holds them in front of him. "Remove the tattoos," he threatens forcefully, "Or I open the nuts."

I look to the wall and notice the sign that reads, "Nut allergy." Ah, now things are making more sense. But unfortunately, I'm still in unbearable pain.

"Listen, I'm sure we can work something out… Don't open those nuts."

"You want some? Dry roasted."

"Aw, so butch…"

"Listen! Drop the nuts, or I'll take her eye out," he growls, directing his needle at Kelly. "You're so sexy," is her response. _Good lord._

"Let her go!"

"Put your nuts on the floor!"

"Don't make me do it!"

"Drop the nuts!"

"Drop the gun!"

"Someone please tell me what's going on!"

"Still being stabbed over here!" I remind everyone through the utter chaos.

"I will shoot her in the eye!"

"Let her go! Ahhh!" Simon opens the packet and tosses the nuts at Vince, who releases Kelly and cowers for a moment. Very soon, however, it becomes apparent that the peanuts didn't actually do anything besides make him more furious. He points his needle at Simon, giving him a barbed wire tattoo around his neck and strangling him.

"Simon!" Nathan shouts, cradling him. "Please don't kill him! My beautiful boy!"

Even in his weakened state, Simon has the strength to shove him off. At this point I can't really see what's going on and I think I'm about to black out from the pain.

"I will never let you goooo!" Vince howls. He's cut off abruptly and I hear a choking noise.

All of a sudden, the pain in my stomach subsides and I set out a deep breath of relief. Nathan, looking very bewildered, shuffles over to me and helps me to my feet just in time for me to see Kelly kick Vince in the ribs.

"What the bloody hell was that about?" Nathan mutters, rubbing his shoulder. Before I answer, I grab his hand and tug him along behind me as I rush out of the building with the others.

Once we're safely outside, I hug a frozen Simon happily.

"That was brilliant!" I exclaim. "You saved us!"

His gaze darts hesitantly to each of us. "I just did what needed to be done," he says modestly.

"That wos right impressive," Kelly concurs.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Nathan scoffs. "Let's move this along, ey? It wasn't _that _great."

"You said you were in love with me," Simon reminds him grimly.

"Not one o' my finer moments, I admit. But it's over now, yeah, so can we just forget about it?"

"I'll _never_ let you forget about it," I tell him.

We soon part with the others and head back to the flat, hand in hand.

"He said you wanted to dry hump him," I chuckle, "It was _Simon_ of all people."

"I didn't black out, y'know! I remember it all," he says in a singsong voice. "And I will most likely need some sort of counseling to rid me of the nightmares I'll be having for the next twenty years."

"Yeah, don't be so dramatic," I say, pushing him against the brick wall of the estate building. "I have half a mind to punch you square in the face for acting like such a prick."

"Again, wasn't my fault!" He grabs me somewhat brusquely and pulls me against him. "I suppose you were jealous of Barry," he teases cruelly.

"Actually, I thought you might just be a flaming homosexual."

He smiles widely and pulls me even closer so that our bodies are flush. We're so close that I swear I could count his eyelashes. "Hmm," he says thoughtfully with his unwavering grin, "I suppose this is generally how homosexuals behave then, yeah?" He kisses me briefly, before I push against his chest and create a small gap between us.

"Y'know, I think this means now that I've kissed Simon second hand! Your tongue _was_ in his mouth, after all..."

"Oh shut it! I'm not gay!"

You could go both ways," I point out.

"I'm about ninety-eight percent sure that I'm straight."

"And the other two percent?"

"Y'know, I've always thought that Colin Farrell was a very attractive man..."

"You are so full of it," I laugh, starting towards the door.

He follows me closely up the stairs until we're inside my flat; in the blink of an eye, he corners me against the door and drawls, "I mean, I could always just prove it to you." He doesn't wait for me to respond before kissing me fervently, and I can't really bring myself to push him away. I have to acknowledge how much better he's gotten at… well, _everything_ since we've been together. I suppose practice really does make perfect. "Prick," I murmur affectionately.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: So, I'd really love to hear what you all think! I hope I've got the characterizations of everyone right - some feedback on that would be great. Now that less of the dialogue is directly from the show, I'd love to know if I'm doing all right. Nathan is really hard to write when he's not being such an asshole. I mean, in the show they allude to there being a softer side to him, but we really only get to see it a teensy bit. And again, I'm not from the UK so hopefully all the slang is right. Let me know. Thanks for reading! :-)<strong>


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's note: Hey everyone! I hope you all had a happy holiday! As always, thanks so so much to all the reviewers! You guys are seriously the best. Now that my finals are over (although, as you can tell, my sleep schedule remains unchanged), I'm planning on updating this more frequently. I hope you all enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 16<strong>

It's Thursday night and I'm working my shift at the pub. I've only been putting in a few hours per week on account of the whole community service situation, but it dawns on me while I'm wiping glasses that my stint at the community center is almost up. _I.e._, I'm going to have to start working here as a full time job. Which means _Nathan_ is also going to have to start working a full time job.

I've asked him to begin the search for employment before, but I've not had any success getting through to him. He always just writes my concerns off with his characteristic nonchalance or an answer that's mildly sarcastic like, "Yeah love, I'll get right on that." I care bout him, but it's not fair that I should have to pay the rent and he still gets to stay in the flat. I'm not being unreasonable, not in the least… And yet I still dread bringing it up again. But I have to. It must be done. He can't be lazing about once community service is over.

At the end of my shift, I ignore my boss's unnerving leer and collect this month's meager paycheck. I then start back towards my shithole of a flat, still contemplating how I can convince Nathan to get a grip on reality. It's not even about me, about the rent. Not entirely, at least. He's not going to be twenty-two forever. Well okay, _technically_ he is… I think. I don't know how his power works. But what I really mean to say is this behavior is not going to fly for the rest of his life, and it's going to get him into trouble. Trouble that far surpasses community service. Trouble that's not so easily swept under the rug. And if I were him and had the gift of immortality, I sure as hell wouldn't want to spend the rest of eternity in a prison cell. And such is a very feasible possibility.

It's easy for me to put my frustration with him aside when we're in danger or (which happens to be every fucking week at the community center, thank-you-very-much. The National Probation Service is going to get a _very_ choice letter from me, when all this is over...) or when we're having fun at a party with the rest of the gang. But all this will end soon. These concerns aren't coming out of nowhere. An indistinct fear of the future has been gnawing away at the back of my mind, growing stronger as the end grows nearer. It won't be the same when we're trying to live like normal people. I need to be assertive. I can't let my feelings for him get in the way, because he'll take advantage of me. I can't be a pushover. I can't let my anger dissolve when I see those green eyes and mop of curly hair.

And I can't trust him to know what's right without me spelling it out for him, and that is perhaps what bothers me the most.

Nathan unsurprisingly, is sat on the sofa watching television once I get home. I can't help but feel warranted indignation bubble in my chest.

"Hello," I greet in a dark drawl.

"Hey love," is his distracted response.

"Can you shut the telly off? I want to talk to you," I say. My tone is firm, so he tears his eyes away from the screen to look at me. I imagine I appear tired and annoyed, and rightfully so.

"Someone's had a rough night… No need to take it out on me, darlin'," he mumbles, inspecting his fingernails with an air of boredom. Ugh. Not now, not today. I pray for him to conduct himself with even the slightest sense of maturity, if only for a few minutes.

I sit across from the irritating Irishman and intake a sharp breath of air, as if I'm about to lecture a child. "I know I've said this many times before," I begin agitatedly, "but you really have to start looking for a job. Community service is ending soon and you need to help to pay the rent if you're going to live here."

I can tell after I've finished my brief speech that he had really only been half-listening, as he is still looking at his hands. Now _he_ is the one who appears agitated.

"Nathan, listen to me," I snap.

"What? I am listenin'! Look, me n' jobs, we don't really get on together too well."

I scoff in disbelief – not at the content of what he's said (which is quite believable), but his audacity to do anything besides obediently agree with me. I rack my brain for the words to amply convey my thoughts. "Well, that's not really a valid response. I'm not _asking_ you, I'm telling you."

"You know I don't take well to people telling me what to do," he brushes off, still using the same tone while he stands.

I stand, too, having now crossed my threshold of exasperation and entered into anger. "People? So now I'm _people_, am I? Can't you be serious for one fucking minute! You don't really expect me to pay the entire rent while you freeload in _my_ flat, do you?"

"That sounds good to me…" he shrugs. I can tell he's joking (or at least partially joking), but I'm not in the mood. Not at all. I'm tired, my feet ache from standing for hours on end, and it's _not_ my responsibility to babysit him – his attitude… It's nothing short of infantile. "You act like a child," I grit out in a low voice.

"You're just getting that?" he says with an impish grin. I don't find it cute, only infuriating.

In fact, I'm so furious that I'm tempted to bash him over the head with the remote control to the telly. Maybe I'm overreacting. Maybe I've just had a long day. But he's irking me to the point where I'm tempted to attack him, and he's completely oblivious to it! He's my boyfriend, for Christ sakes! He's supposed to try to calm me down after I've had a tough time, not rile me up!

"You're sleeping on the couch tonight," I grind out, running a shaky hand through my tangled hair.

"What?"

"The couch."

"Love, I was just kiddin'," he tries lamely. I don't believe him.

"I don't want to deal with you right now. I need some space."

He rolls his eyes and mutters something about women under his breath and I go into my bedroom and slam the door behind me. I collapse onto the bed, lying on my back with my face in my hands.

If this is going to work – _really _work – between us, he's going to have to grow up. I understand that part of it is just his personality, but there's a difference between simply being immature and acting like a fucking horny twelve year old at all times. And Nathan's personality encompasses the latter. At some point it, doesn't matter how much he says (or feels) he cares about me. He has to take action; he has to _show_ it, and not in the obvious respect.

Plus, as distressing as it is to admit, it'll actually be a relief to have some quiet time to myself. I feel like I'm with Nathan 24/7, even if it's not actually the case; his flamboyant presence takes a toll on everyone, myself included. What I told him was true – I do need space, I do need a break sometimes. I accept him for what he is (for the time being), but I'd be lying if I said that I didn't sometimes wish he were different.

**xOx**

Today at the community center, we have a new addition to our little group. Ollie, he calls himself. He's a bit odd, like the rest of us, but he's the annoying sort of do-gooder odd, which essentially makes him completely _un_like the rest of us. He's a misfit amongst misfits. And his straight-toothed grin in extremely grating, especially when I'm cross to begin with.

After the probation worker introduces us to this new member of our band of young offenders and gives us our daily instructions, Kelly whispers to me, "Are you n' Nathan in a fight?"

I first glance at Nathan, who's chewing on the string of his hoodie; although we arrived together, we haven't spoken more than two words to one another since we left the flat. That's mostly because I explicitly told him not to bother me (and most of what comes out of his mouth is incredibly bothersome), but it was still a noticeable change, whether or not you were able to read minds.

"Yeah," I answer, not bothering to lie.

"Wot 'appened? Ya were both thinkin' some right nasty things 'bout one anothah…"

"He's just being a twat, as per usual. Money stuff. I told him to grow up."

She nods comprehendingly and we leave it at that. I'm in no mood to spill my heart out in some sort of girly therapy session, and I can't imagine Kelly is offering to listen.

When we leave the locker room, Curtis calls us into a huddle in the center of the room. "Whatever happens, we can't let the new guy find out about our powers," he instructs grimly.

"Wot do we do if 'e finds out?" Kelly questions.

"We kill him," Simon deadpans. However, when we all look to him in horror, a foreign-looking smirk breaks out on his face. "I'm joking," he assures us. Well, _that's_ certainly a new side.

Nathan chuckles mockingly. "Oh ho ho ho, you're making jokes now? Excuse us, you're creepin' out of your weird little shell, I get that. Good for you. But let's get one thing straight – _I'm_ the funny guy 'round here."

We all look at one another awkwardly. "You're not actually funny," I point out.

"Har-de-har sweetcheeks, I've seen you laughing at my jokes, don't deny it! Just because you're cross with me doesn't mean you can deny my comedic genius."

"In case you haven't noticed, we're laughing _at_ you, not with you."

He takes this comment in stride and opens his mouth to dish out a retort; before our public spat can progress any further, however, Alisha spots Ollie coming into the room and we break the circle.

"Wot did you get done for?" Kelly asks as he approaches the six of us.

"I was arrested for vandalizing a coal burning power station. We were protesting against CO2 emissions," he answers proudly. Jesus, what a fucking hippie…

Just as Ollie's finished speaking, Nathan releases a loud noise of displeasure and stares at the kid with a disgusted look on his face; the others start snickering, but I remain stoic.

There's a bit of an awkward pause, after which point he cuts in and says, "Have any of you got one of these weird powers?"

"What?" we all exclaim in unison, followed by various false expressions of confusion.

"I'm only asking because I've got one," he adds quickly.

Nathan's quick to abandon the charade of ignorance (for what's probably the first time in his life). "Oh yeah, us too." When we all glare at him angrily, he continues, "I don't think I was supposed to tell you that."

"What can you do?" Simon asks.

"I can teleport," he replies as if he's imparting some grand secret on us. God, I just want to slap that smug look of his childish little face… Something about him just rubs me the wrong way.

"Let's see you do it, then," Kelly orders. I smirk at this, pleased by the fact that she seems just as irked as I am.

After a moment, he scrunches his face up tightly and flexes his arms. We watch expectantly. Soon, however, he disappears into thin air. I'm a bit shocked, only because I expected him to be completely full of shit.

"Whoa," Nathan mutters, impressed.

Suddenly, however, someone clears his throat behind us. We turn around and, lo and behold, there is Ollie. Approximately five feet from where he was when he started.

"That was rubbish," I blurt out.

"Ya, that's shit," Kelly concurs. "You coulda walked there quickah."

"Sometimes I get further than that," he adamantly defends.

"That's really impressive," Alisha replies, sarcasm dripping from her every word.

Nathan adds, "Yeah, I really thought something more exciting was gonna happen."

Thoroughly unamused, we all proceed to walk in the opposite direction and leave him standing in the middle of the room alone, wearing only one of his stereotypical Birkenstock sandals.

"What a fucking granola-eating wanker," I murmur to Kelly on our way through the door.

She and Alisha, who apparently overheard me, laugh at his expense.

**xOx**

Once we're outdoors, we walk through the middle of the deserted street, picking up litter as we go. Since the seven of us are given a bit of room to disperse, Nathan seizes the opportunity to try to make amends.

"So are we all right?" he asks me quietly.

"That depends."

"On what?"

"You _know_ what, Nathan. Don't play dumb."

"In case you haven't noticed, most of the time I'm not playing," he says in what I suspect is an ill-fated attempt to make me laugh.

"Well then you're even thicker than I thought, because I made things very clear for you."

"Alright, alright, I'll do what you asked! But I'm warning you – I told you what would happen. If I get fired straight away, you have no one to blame but yourself."

"How does that make any sense at all?" I exclaim in disbelief.

"You know what I mean! I'm telling you what to expect. I'm warning you that this is a bad idea."

"Nathan, it's really not that difficult to hold a minimum wage job."

"Maybe not for you! But people like me, people who are actually interestin', we're more of the drifter types – it's hard for us to hold one job when there are so many other things goin' on!"

"What do you mean 'people who are actually interesting'?" I demand, narrowing my eyes to slits.

"I mean, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Marnie, but you're a little bland…"

"_Excuse me?"_

"Errr that's why we go so well together! Like you always say, opposites attract! I'm loud and obnoxious and you're more soft-spoken."

"So you think I'm boring," I state.

"No! That's not what I meant!" But it's too late. I'm already walking away from him.

"Unbelievable," I mutter under my breath.

Curtis, who apparently heard the exchange, says "Nice one," to a downtrodden-looking Nathan.

I'm a bit embarrassed that the others are likely to have also heard Nathan and I quarrelling. The noise really carries in this desolate place. It's strange – I can't remember ever having seen anyone around while we have to do our community service. At least that's something to be thankful for – at least we don't have to deal with random local scum jeering at us while we clean up their litter and graffiti.

Just as the thought crosses my mind, however, someone comes sprinting down the road at a rapid speed. He calls, "He's fucking crazy!" as he passes us.

We are only momentarily perplexed, for just seconds later a neon orange sports car comes skidding around the corner and halts in front of us.

Nathan observes, "You think he was talking about this fella?"

The man exits the car wearing some sort of sports jacket and driving gloves. His attire is unusual, to be sure, but the most disconcerting thing about him is most definitely the vacant look in his eyes. If he weren't walking, I would have suspected he was dead.

"Where's Conti?" he asks, looking robotically from each of us to the next.

"Oh that's him," Nathan answers immediately, pointing to Simon. "He's a right Conti."

"Did you think I was gonna let it go?" he asks dully. "I want my money."

"Give the man his money," Nathan prods.

"I haven't got your money," Simon replies, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. I can't say I blame him – this guy is quite obviously straight out of the loony bin. In fact, I'm certain that he's escaped from some sort of mental ward.

"Roxy?" he says when he lays eyes on Kelly. "So you're wiv him now? I was still waitin' for you at the church when the cops picked me up."

"I'm not bein' funny mate, but you're actin' like a right narc."

"He's clearly suffering from some type of mental illness," Ollie observes. I'm almost disgusted with myself for agreeing with him.

"I want my money," he repeats.

"Just let me talk to him…"

"No, just leave it," Alisha urges him.

"It's okay. I've had some training in conflict resolution." My god, this kid is such a fucking gasbag! I try not to despise people straight away like this, but he is an exception.

"This should be entertaining," Nathan quips. I really don't want to agree with him. I _really _don't want to think he's funny. What is this? I find myself hating my own opinions twice in a two-minute span. It should _not_ be this difficult to see Nathan for the insufferable prick he really is.

"What's your name?" Ollie asks, making a beeline towards the deranged lunatic. I can't see any scenario in which this is going to end well. "It's okay," he continues, "I'm not gonna hurt – "

Before he can even finish his sentence, the man raises a gun out of nowhere and puts a bullet straight through his forehead. A mist of blood and brains sprays everywhere, including on my face. We're all so shocked by the sheer swiftness of it all that, for a moment, we're actually immobilized. It takes a minute for me to even register what has just occurred. I mean, I wanted to shut the kid up, but _that_ was excessive. Dear god. And now someone's tugging my sleeve. And we're running. Running for our lives.

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><p><strong>Author's note: Pretty please review! Let me know what you think of the conflict between Marnie and Nathan. I feel like even if he cares about her, he probably won't listen to her (like his mum? not in a weird way lol, but just as part of his personality). I don't know if I've ever said this in the previous chapters, but if there's anything you'd like to see in the coming chapters, let me know and I'll definitely take it into account. I'm going to try to go a bit deeper into Marnie's core personality in the future... I'll just say that the reason she has her power stems from something deeper than is obviously apparent. <strong>

**Again, please review! Your input means everything to me! **hint hint getting to 100 reviews will DEFINITELY make me update faster****


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's note: Hiya, guys! Thank you so much to all the reviewers! We've reached 100, and, as promised, here is the next chapter! I hope you all enjoy it.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 17<strong>

When we eventually stop running, it's only to lay down supine on the rooftop. We're all breathless, our very bones rattling in terror… Out of all the ghastly traumas that we've been through, I must admit that this takes the cake. I've never been so scared in my life and it seems that the others feel the same way. I'm between Curtis and Simon, not far from Nathan. God, I'm so fucking petrified, I just want to… But no. I'm angry with him. Even in life or death situations, I have to remember this.

He suddenly gets up and starts crawling towards the end of the building, prone, like a soldier. We watch him guardedly, not wanting to abandon our strategic positions. I don't know what Nathan's hoping to accomplish, although I suppose he doesn't have to worry about being shot dead. _I_, on the other hand, certainly won't feel safe until the police pick up this psycho. He ducks down abruptly, presumably because he's spotted Ollie's murderer.

"He shot him!" Alisha exclaims out of the blue. "He shot the new guy!"

"We should go back for 'im," Kelly suggests.

Curtis (rightly) disputes, "He was hit in the head! He's fucked!"

"Yeah, there's no way anyone's surviving that," I agree.

"Hey no, it's okay!" Nathan blurts out. "He's fine, he's over there!" He points to the side of the lake and Curtis quickly crawls over to see for himself.

"I don't see him," he says. The rest of us also begin to wriggle towards the edge of the roof.

"Oh… Then that must be his ghost. Which means he's not at all okay, on account of him bein' dead."

"This is messed op," Kelly points out.

"Well yeah, I'd say that's obvious," I fail to stop myself from snapping. Kelly scowls at me and I feel the familiar tug of guilt at my chest. I didn't really mean to come off as such a bitch.

Nathan starts calling out to Ollie's ghost. "New guy! Sorry ya got shot, man." All of a sudden, he flips him the bird and shouts, "Hey, fuck you!"

Curtis, clearly appalled, demands, "What was that?"

"He just got shot in the face, and you're insultin' him," Alisha scolds.

"He made an obscene gesture," Nathan protests, "I don't care if he's dead, there's no excuse for rudeness!" I wonder if he realizes the irony of what he's just said – if there's one person who doesn't understand that certain reactions require a time and a place, it's undoubtedly him.

"You should rewind time," Simon instructs Curtis.

"You can save 'im," Kelly adds. "Go on then!"

Curtis stands up and his body goes rigid; it's quite apparent that he's attempting it, albeit unsuccessfully. I resist the urge to scoff and Nathan actually scoffs.

"Well I didn't know him!" Curtis staunchly defends. "I'm not feelin' it…"

"Yeah, he was a bit of a twat…" Dammit, Nathan, stop saying things that I agree with! I wonder if he's actually _trying_ to make this more difficult for me. He probably is. Although, I doubt he knows me well enough to keep up this behavior.

"Is there somefin' wrong wit' you?"

"Oh c'mon, he was never gonna fit in, what with all the carin' about the environment and that… Better him than me."

"You're immortal, you dickhead," I remind him.

He considers my words. "Better him than one of you," he rephrases, eying me meaningfully. I _almost_ feel a tug at my heartstrings. Almost.

However, despite my more visceral reaction to his gaze, I project an air of frustration by rolling my eyes dramatically. My inability to properly compartmentalize my feelings towards him is only made worse by the fact that I do, yet again, agree. Seriously, fuck my life right now.

Once the coast is clear, we head down from the roof and straight into the locker room. For the first time since community service has started, I lead the way. I retrieve my belongings from my locker and say, "Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm gonna get the fuck out of here."

"Yeah, I've definitely had enough bullshit for one day," Alisha seconds.

"You can say that again," says Kelly.

"Aw c'mon guys, just another day in the life of a couple of young offending superheroes," Nathan adds, incapable of restraining himself from speaking.

I can't help but snort. "Yeah? Why don't you go out there and stop him then?"

I've been sharp with Nathan in front of the others before, but this time I suspect that I might have actually sounded a tad overly harsh... Not that I'm afraid I've offended him (because I'm quite sure that such a feat is virtually impossible). I just don't want to cause a scene. They're all giving us strange looks with panicked, desperate eyes; they're clearly itching to escape whatever sort of lover's quarrel this is about to become.

"Well, see ya tomorrow," Alisha says, leaving quickly.

"Yeah. Later." Curtis is followed by Kelly and Simon.

"C'mon, Marnie," Nathan pleads once we're alone, "I don't get why you're so angry! I haven't done anything _that_ bad, especially compared with… Well, what I usually do."

"Yes, but this is _me_, Nathan, not some random person. I know you're rude, I know that's like, your _thing_, but I guess I just expected you'd be different with me."

"I _am_ different with you!" he objects.

"Not different enough." I begin to walk away, and, naturally, he follows me.

He stops me near the vending machine in the hallway, gingerly grabbing my wrist. "Okay, I'll level with you. I'm aware that some people might consider me… difficult to get along with. But you knew that going in! I don't understand why you'd even start all this in the first place if you had some kind of fundamental issue with me, which you apparently do."

It's times like these, times when I see the glimmer of seriousness beneath the ruse of immaturity, when I truly feel my heart ache. I _know_ there's more to him, underneath it all.

"I don't have a fundamental issue with you, Nathan," I reply evenly. "I just wish you could take _some_ things seriously. That's all. I really don't think my expectations are unreasonable."

"I told you I'd get a job!" he refutes. "I don't know what else you even want!" It seems that the more passionate about something he becomes, the more pronounced his Irish accent is. _It is __not__ cute, Marnie, it's not._

I sigh deeply and say, "Okay. That's a start. I don't want anything else."

"So we're all right then?" he whines. "Because honestly, I knew girls were complicated, but this is really somethin' else. You've gotta spell it out for me here, love."

"Yeah, we're all right."

We both know we're not, not _really_. Being in a relationship shouldn't mean that it feels like pulling teeth whenever we have a conversation. But neither of us says anything more. We're shaken and covered in someone else's blood, and we both just want to go home. So we'll make it work, at least for now. But I know how he really feels. He told me. He thinks I'm bland and boring. And that hurts me more than he knows, obviously, which shows that he doesn't actually know me at all. What's more upsetting is that I'm beginning to feel that maybe I don't even know myself. It annoys me that I've poured my heart into someone who – it seems – is either unwilling or unable to truly do the same.

**xOx**

"The police want witness statements off all of ya," the probation worker informs us the next morning, "so try not to screw it up, yeah, 'cause I really don't need them on my back. Do you think you can manage that?"

So I take it this means they haven't caught the raging psychopath… Wonderful. There's dead silence on our part, in response to his question.

"Good."

"Is that it?" Kelly demands.

"Aren't you going to pretend to be even a little bit sad?" says Alisha.

"Do you know how much paperwork's involved when someone gets shot doing community service?" he snaps. "I've got health and safety forms comin' out my ass over here. So sure, yeah. We're all very sad. So there it is."

Nathan's wearing his telltale thinking look – I can see the wheels turning in his brain and I know that he's about to try to milk this situation for all it's worth.

Just as I predicted, he stops us from leaving and says, "It's a cruel, senseless waste. A young man, taken from us in his prime, leavin' us to pick up the pieces of our shattered lives. Knowing that he's gone forever. So maybe, we should have the rest of the week off." Ah. And there it is. "Y'know, to cry and grieve, and remember our dear friend – " He flounders. Oh my god, the stupid prick doesn't even know his name. The probation worker chews the cap of his pen, mildly intrigued by the sheer audacity of Nathan's slip-up.

Nathan snaps wildly for one of us to assist him. "Ollie," Simon fills in.

"Ollie! Dear, beautiful, Ollie," he finishes.

There's a pause, after which point the probation worker deadpans. "Get the fuck out of here."

**xOx**

"Heartless bastard," Nathan grumbles whilst cleaning graffiti off the wall of the underpass.

"We should do something," Simon starts. He's met with blank, disbelieving faces from the rest of us. "About the guy who shot Ollie," he continues.

"So you're talking about stepping up to the plate and taking him down?" Nathan clarifies, pointing his paint roller in Simon's pale face. "I really don't see that happenin'."

"Nah, he's right," Alisha steps in. I'm fairly certain that my jaw has dropped by this stage. _Alisha_ is agreeing with _Simon_? I must have seen everything, now. She's never been much of a humanitarian type, to put it lightly. I can't imagine she'd want to risk her life for the sake of bettering the community.

"Why would you want to get involved with anything like this?" Curtis questions, voicing my thoughts.

"Maybe since I've got someone's brains blown out all over my face," she defends sassily. Hmm. I'm still not buying it.

"If we go up against 'im, one of os is gonna get our brains blown out," Kelly interjects.

"Amen," I mumble.

"We can't just pretend that it didn't happen!" Simon says vehemently.

"Hey, I do that all the time," Nathan announces. "It's like the fella in the Bible, the Good Samaritan – walk on by."

"You do realize that that was meant to _discourage_ people from doing nothing," I inform him.

Nathan furrows his brow and casts his eyes upwards, as if this is the first time the idea has ever occurred to him.

The other just shake their heads at Nathan's stupidity.

"So, how are you gonna feel if we do nothing and then we read in the paper that he's shot someone else?" Alisha demands angrily.

"I'm going to feel thankful that it wasn't me!" I retort. "I'm sorry that this sounds cruel, but it's not as if we're the only people who've been affected by the storm! I'm sure that there are plenty of others who have been given powers that are much better suited for fighting crime! Honestly, it's best to leave this one to the professionals."

"Yeah," Curtis says, piggybacking on my argument, "So what are you two gonna do when you find this guy and he sticks a gun to your head?"

Silence.

"I'm glad you got it all figgered out," he continues, "There's no way you're gettin' involved in this."

"Since when did you tell me what I can and can't do?" Alisha shouts furiously. Oh god. Looks like we're about to witness lovers' quarrel 2.0. Apparently Nathan and I aren't the only ones having problems.

"Since I care about whether you die or not! Have you forgotten about that?"

Nathan (surprisingly) intervenes: "C'mon guys, seriously – I think I speak for all of us when I say we're lazy and incompetent, we're practically handicapped, okay! Leave it to the police – they get paid to get shot."

When he's done saying this, he looks at me earnestly. I guess this his own attempt to be more mature. Baby steps. It's the thought that counts anyway, and now I know that he's at least listened to me. And in a strange way, Curtis and Alisha are a reflection of us – they've been together for just as long, and for the same reasons (proximity), and he's just stopped them arguing. They're having trouble, we're having trouble. Maybe these sorts of relationships have an expiration date. But perhaps if they stay together, we'll stay together. It's twisted logic, but, intuitively, it makes sense.

"He's right," I assist, suddenly feeling altogether better about everything. My eyes are still locked with Nathan's and it's becoming increasingly difficult to refrain from demonstrating any sort of physical affection. It'd be inappropriate, especially now.

"Yeah," Curtis chimes in, "I'd never thought I'd say this, but he's talkin' sense."

"Thank you! And hey, I'm already doin' my bit to fight crime," he says, slathering paint over a particularly crude marking.

**xOx**

On our walk home, I say, "Thanks for doing that, back there."

He glances at me briefly, weighing his options, before settling upon, "Yeah, no problem."

"See," I continue, "there's a happy medium between seriousness and… well… your normal personality."

"Whatever you say, love."

"Are you cross with me?" I ask in confusion. Something seems off. Nathan is certainly not a man of few words, and he is significantly less talkative than usual, at the moment.

"No, I'm just tired. Your sofa is uncomfortable as fuck, FYI, and I reckon I got around two hours of sleep last night."

"You don't have to stay there tonight," I try, consciously willing myself not to sound desperate.

He gives me a toothless smile and says, "That's a relief, cos this sexual frustration has really been eating away at me these past few days, love. I'm in great need of a good shag."

I snort and elbow him in the ribs and I almost feel as though we ware back to normal. But the contact triggers my power, and I know.

I know what's wrong. He's bored. I'm boring. And he feels badly that it's coming to this, but he wants out. Maybe it's my fault. Maybe I pushed him too far. No one likes a nagger – it's the conventional downfall of every girlfriend. Too clingy, too nag-y, too needy. I have been abrasive. And we have been together for a fairly long while.

I really only feel the slight sense of boredom from him. There's no evidence that he finds me any of the aforementioned attributes. I don't know why I'm thinking so nihilistically. Maybe _I'm _getting bored of him, too.

But I love him, I do. I think. But it's not like it was when we first got together, when we were so happy just to be together, to get to know each other, to settle into a comfortable relationship. And now it's… it's not monotonous. Nothing could ever be monotonous between us, not with everything we confront on a daily basis.

I decide I just have to give it time. Maybe this is just a low point; I imagine it will get better. I hope it will.

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><p><strong>Author's note: Hope you liked it, guys! Please review, I'd love it if you'd all let me know what you think. Last chapter's little incentive seemed to work, so if I can get at least 10-15 reviews I'll update again ASAP ;-) Have a happy and safe New Year!<strong>


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's note: Hey guys! Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I really appreciate it. I hope you all had a wonderful New Year. Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 18<strong>

The first coherent thought that enters my brain in the morning is that Nathan and I really should talk. I had a good time last night, I did, but it seemed to be a bit… I don't know. Lacking passion. Methodical. Like he just wanted to get off and it didn't particularly matter that it was _me_ who was involved. And while I do realize that this might be an over-share and I know how bad it sounds, I think it's necessary to mention that, somewhat surprisingly, it's not usually like that. Not with him. At least, it never has been before. We always have a certain chemistry, a connection that transcends the mere physicality of the whole somewhat primal process, even when we're drunk off our arses.

As always, I wake up first. I take the opportunity to examine his sleeping form, something that I stopped doing at some point but can't remember exactly when. He's wearing nothing but his skivvies and one gangly arm is draped over my bare stomach. His long limbs create the illusion that he'd be more graceful than he actually is, especially when he is still. Sometimes even his sleeping is obnoxious, but not right now. He's not snoring, he's not drooling, he's just lying there silently. Thick, dark lashes cast a shadow over his high cheekbones and I feel a tingle of regret travel from the back of my neck to my toes, like an electric current passing down my body.

I delicately extricate myself from his grasp, get dressed, and tread into the kitchen. He must hear me rifling through the cupboards, for it's only a matter of minutes until he appears, resting his elbows on the counter. He looks like he's about to say something, but I cut him off.

"We have to talk." The words echo with an eerie sense of familiarity as they roll off my tongue.

"We've been doin' a whole lot of talking lately," he replies warily.

"I know. Look, Nathan, I think maybe we should take a break for a little while to figure things out."

His bushy eyebrows almost disappear beneath his mass of brown ringlets. "Are you finishing with me?" he squawks in disbelief. "After we just… shagged?" He uses his thumb to motion to the bedroom, as if I could have forgotten what we did the night before.

"No," I explain slowly, "I just think we should be apart for a little while to see if this is truly what we want."

"Erm, I think you pretty much defined the meaning of splitting up," he comments dryly. He doesn't seem particularly torn up about it, which I suppose is both good and bad.

"You have to admit that things have changed between us."

"I mean, I guess, but I still care about you and all that gushy shit. I don't want to split up." His tone is bordering on contradictory; he sounds very levelheaded and matter-of-fact, at the moment. "And how's that even gonna work? We see each other every day at community service! That's gonna be a helluva weird situation, love."

"We're _not _splitting up. But I think we shouldn't live together for like a week or so. Just to see what it's like. And if we still want to continue on the path we're on, we can. I feel like maybe we got too serious too fast." That, and I don't think we're on the same page when it comes to the seriousness aspect of our relationship. But I hold my tongue on this matter, not wanting to beat a dead horse.

Nathan chews his lip pensively. "A'right, if that's what you want," he sighs finally. "But you're gonna miss this," he gestures to his body and thrusts his hips into the counter.

I let myself laugh at this display. "Whatever you say, Nathan. I'm not angry with you or anything," I feel the need to clarify. "I just get the sense… Are you growing tired of this?"

"You know my attention span's shit," he admits. "But I do care about you, I'm not just dicking around. I'm telling the truth, honest. I really fancy you, Marnie."

"And I care about you, too. But I think this will be good for both of us."

**xOx**

We handle the whole thing surprisingly judiciously, I think. It's all very amicable. We're still friends. We'll always be friends, I reckon, and we're technically still together. But we also both have our own shit to sort out.

I figure he takes it so well because he's not unaccustomed to quick and sudden changes in his everyday routine. At this point, the severity life's events seems to just roll off his shoulders like the harsh insults that are always flung his way. No one would be able to detect any change in his behavior.

What I find odd about Nathan is that he conveys a simultaneous invincibility and vulnerability. He always seems to get the short end of the stick when it comes to physical confrontations (i.e. he's died a couple of times), but he is, for all intents and purposes, completely immune to verbal attacks. I'm not quite sure if they _do_ bother him and he just hides it spectacularly well, or if he is truly as thick-skinned as he presents himself. It's a question I haven't been able to resolve, even with my power. From the scant insight I've been able to establish, it seems that only a select few have the power to wound him with their words – most of all, his parents.

I leave for the community center before him with the intention of using the walk over to ensure that I've made the right decision. To think things through a bit further. Which isn't to say that I haven't already given the whole scenario an inordinate amount of consideration, because I have. But this is the sort of thing that you need to be _positive _about.

I run into Alisha and Kelly during my travels. "Hiya," Alisha greets as I join them.

"Hey."

"I was just about to tell Kelly something, so I guess you're gonna be in on it now too… Me and Curtis ended it last night." My eyes must widen visibly, because she adds, "Why do you look so surprised? I thought it was pretty obvious that we were having problems."

"It's just… Nathan and I sort of ended it this morning."

"Wot do ya mean 'sort of'?" Kelly asks.

"We're on a break," I clarify.

Kelly and Alisha share a furtive glance. "What?" I question.

"Nofin… It's just… That's always 'ow it starts out, but that stuff never ends well. You'd probably be better off just finishin' wit' 'im."

"But I don't want to," I protest.

Kelly shrugs. "Well, are ya all right? Both of ya, I mean?"

"I'm fine," Alisha says bluntly, almost as if she's surprised by her own emotions. "How 'bout you?" she asks me.

"Not really. I still fancy him…"

"Then why are ya doin' it?" Kelly asks, obviously perplexed.

"Because he's being his usual dickhead self," I explain.

"Somehow, I'm not surprised," Alisha mutters. "Frankly, I would have expected it to happen sooner."

"Yeah, it must be 'ard to put op with that all the time."

"It is," I admit, "But there are good parts of him, too. You guys just haven't really seen them…"

"You've said that before," she comments, "But if 'e ain't gonna change, there's no use in givin' 'im second chances all the time. You oughtta just finish it. But I guess it's none o' me business. Both of ya are bein' right brave; if it were me, I'd be cryin' me eyes out," Kelly commends us. "When _I_ ended it wit' me last boyfriend, I was completely gutted." I feel like chiming in that Nathan and I haven't actually ended things, but I'm cut off by the sound of loud music a screeching noise directly behind us. It sounds distinctly like rubber on asphalt.

"Fuck, run!" one of the other girls instructs.

We don't need to be told twice, and are soon fleeing as fast as our legs can carry us. We weave up the stairs and around in an attempt to lose him, but by the time we're back on a main road he's already waiting. In the ensuing pursuit, Alisha and I are split off from Kelly at a fork in the path – the psycho drives after us, and we quickly disappear into a red door on the sidewalk. The bright color beckons us, like a signal of safety. We wait inside for several minutes; the only noise that either of us makes is panting, seeing as we've just run through what seems like the entire estate. Every so often, we peek through the window to see what's going on outside. He parks his car across from where we're hiding and leaves and in this moment I can feel my heart constrict: he's coming after us. He's going to find us. And god-knows what he's going to do with us.

To our great relief, however, he doesn't approach the building that we're hiding in. Instead, he disappears in the direction of the community center.

"We should go, while he's occupied," I hiss.

"What if he comes back and sees us, though? Let's just wait 'til his car's gone."

"Okay."

A few minutes later, he returns. Carrying Kelly's limp form. Alisha rushes out before I can stop her. I have no choice but to follow.

"Please, let her go!" she implores the man. I already know it's no use. She's only going to get us killed. Right as this thought crosses my mind, he points a gun at us.

"You tell Conti I want my money," he deadpans.

"There is no Conti!" she begs. "There's no Conti, there's no money, just let her go!" I'm actually surprised that Alisha hasn't backed down by this point. I hold her back, just to make sure she doesn't get any closer. It's not worth the risk of getting shot – we'll be no use to Kelly if we're dead.

"Tell Conti to bring my hundred grand to the warehouse on Tipton Street," he instructs. With this final demand, he swings back into his sports car and speeds away.

Alisha shouts Kelly's name at the back of the vehicle. "There's no point," I tell her, "he's clearly deranged! Let's just get the others and see if we can find a way to get the money. If we can get the money, we can get Kelly back," I try to reason.

"Okay," she starts in an attempt to calm herself down. "Okay. Let's go find them."

**xOx**

The first thing anyone says to us once we walk in is, "Well, they've fixed the vending machine."

"Remember the guy with the red car and the gun?" Alisha nearly cries, ignoring him.

"Yeah, we were just talkin' about him," Nathan affirms.

"He's got Kelly!"

The three males look stricken. "Oh Jesus, he's gonna shoot her," Nathan laments, "And he's gonna kill her! I told you he was dangerous! Alright, everybody calm down! Just think! Think… and keep calm… Do something, you little freak!" He grabs Simon in a rage.

"Conti!" rings out in the distance, interrupting Nathan's frenzy. I had no idea he cared so much for Kelly…

"He's here…" Curtis voices. Usually cool and collected, he now has worry etched into his face. There's music echoing through the hallway, and we quietly tiptoe towards the source.

We find it in the form of an Xbox game in one of the empty, unlit storage rooms. On the screen is the main character, beating a man up and demanding to know where "Conti" is.

Simon picks up the disk cover. "He's living the game," he announces.

"Where the hell did this come from?" I wonder aloud.

"It was the guy in the mask," Alisha says, suddenly much less panicked than she had been. I narrow my eyes. There's something seriously strange about this whole "guy in the mask" deal.

"Well I can see only one way to find out how to save her," Nathan says, planting himself atop one of the desks. He picks up the controller and begins to play.

Simon begins to read aloud the plot of the game – apparently the main character has broken out of prison and is trying to get revenge on the guy who stole his wife. Meanwhile, Nathan narrates his progress in the game, which consists of "running over this fat boy" and "fucking up his car." His words, not mine. My choice to take a break suddenly seems more and more valid as time progresses.

"We need to play the game for real," Simon says after a moment of watching Nathan shoot random citizens. "If we give him his money, I think he'll let Kelly go."

"That's what I was saying before!" I say, nudging Alisha proudly.

"So now all we need is a hundred grand?" she replies, discouraged.

"We could rob a bank," Simon suggests quietly.

"We need a car," Curtis adds.

"Yeah, okay, let's rob a bank," Nathan agrees.

Aaand suddenly, the probation worker's in the doorway. "What's that?" he asks.

Nathan's expression (along with the rest of ours) turns to one of alarm. "Nothing," Simon says a little too quickly.

"Really, that's funny, innit? Cos to me, it sounded like a plan to rob a bank…"

"No, no, no, no," Nathan says slowly, "I said – eh – let's have a big wank. Communal masturbation. The old circle jerk." He's clearly pleased with himself by the end his explanation, which included hand motions.

"Go on and clean my car," the probation worker instructs us.

"I don't think cleaning your car was what they had in mind when they gave us community service," Nathan says. His tone is somewhat outraged, which I find unusual for him.

"Well, I'm a member of the community and my car needs cleaning. And I don't give a shit."

"The man wants his car washed," Curtis tells Nathan, urging him to understand.

"What?" Nathan mouths to us.

"He's giving us his keys, so we can clean his car," Alisha says simply.

When Nathan still doesn't appear to comprehend the situation, Curtis curses and takes the keys from our probation worker. The rest of us follow him out of the room, towards the parking lot.

Once inside the car, Alisha's at the wheel and I'm squished in the back between Curtis and Simon. Nathan comments, "Oooh we're stealing his car! Right. I get it. Let's go!"

Alisha drives (badly) to the bank. After we're parked, it becomes painfully apparent that we have absolutely no course of action beyond this. "What's the plan?" Curtis asks, looking past me to Simon.

He takes a deep breath before replying, "I turn invisible, I walk up to the security car and I take the money."

"Works for me," Alisha concurs.

Simon shares a meaningful look with each of us and exits the car. As soon as he's gone, Nathan says, "Keep the engine running, in case he gets caught."

"Stop looking around," Alisha chastises him in a hushed tone, "And don't touch the radio!" But it's too late. Some god-awful song is playing and Alisha fumbles with the dial to turn it off. We have to be the most inept criminals on the planet.

"Sorry," he mutters, sounding decisively unapologetic.

"Where is he? He should have been back by now," Alisha complains.

As if on cue, Simon materializes in the backseat with a metallic suitcase.

"How was it?"

"Very easy."

We laugh, half in amusement and half in relief.

"A bunch of young offenders develop superpowers and not one of us thinks of usin' them the commit crime? Shame on us!" Nathan says with a grin. That's actually a very good point…

And with that, we're on our way to save Kelly at Tipton Street. The psycho's easy-to-spot red car is parked outside the warehouse. Alisha jerks the car to a stop and we quickly get out; Nathan immediately slides into the other car and starts mucking around with the steering wheel.

"Do you think this is gonna work?" Alisha questions worriedly.

"When he gets the money, it should be game over," Simon answers.

"Yeah, but then we beat the shit out of him and take the money back, right? C'mon, a hundred grand's a lot of money!"

"That is true," Curtis agrees.

"And our community service is nearly over – we need to look towards the future."

"You think we should become criminals?" Simon seems quite disgusted by the prospect.

Nathan starts to get out of the car and accidently beeps the horn. "No, we're _already_ criminals, I'm talkin' about becoming _successful_ criminals. You know, the ones who make money and don't get caught and have girlfriends with enormous breast implants."

Everyone raises their eyebrows at the last comment. "Since we're not together anymore, love," he directs at me with a cheeky wink. My feet are rooted and I can only stare in disbelief. It's like someone has poured scalding water over the top of my head. That was… hostile. He's pissed at me, and this is the first and only indication he's given. Actually, it strikes me then that this is the only time he's spoken to me directly since our little chat. Shit. I really misread _that_ situation. Why the fuck didn't I use my power? How could I have been so careless? It's almost alarming to think that, even after spending so much time together, I still can't predict Nathan's behavior.

"You guys broke up?" Curtis asks.

"I thought we'd use our powers to help people," Simon interrupts, wisely not wanting to unleash any sort of romantic drama at a time like this.

"Nah," Nathan responds. "And to answer your question," he continues, "Yes, we broke up. I'm back on the market, ladies."

Curtis looks at me sympathetically.

"Apparently we're not on the same on the same page about this," I clarify, gradually regaining my ability to speak.

"No, I understood what you were saying earlier," he says. "But I'm not buying that 'taking a break' bollocks – I know what road that leads to, and it leads to you finishing with me. So, let the record show, _I'm_ dumping _you_ first." I want to believe that he's lashing out because he was hurt by what I said before, that this is just a defense mechanism, but my head is still reeling in response to how quickly he went from joking to attacking me.

"Guys, remember Kelly," Alisha reminds us agitatedly. "Sort out your shit some other time, yeah?"

"Let's go," Curtis says, leading the way.

I'm still stunned. I thought we'd resolved this. And he's not usually _mean_ mean to people. He mocks them, but what he said to me was something else entirely. He is downright bitter. Really, how could I have been so terrible at gauging his reaction back at the flat?

We're only a few steps into the building when the sound of a gun being cocked rouses me from my musings.

"You better have my money, Conti," psycho says. "Slide it over."

Simon attempts this, but the suitcase only moves several inches. He tries again, still without any success. He ends up opening it in front of him.

For a brief moment, we think it's over. But then he asks, "Is it true?"

"Is what true?" Simon counters, clearly out of his depth.

"You know what I'm talkin' about. Don't play games with me, Conti."

"He talks this bollocks all the time," Kelly informs us angrily.

"Fat Tony says you've got an undercover cop in your organization."

"See, that's why I don't play computer games, because the never bloody end!" Nathan hisses. I can only glare at him.

The psycho moves closer to Simon and demands, "Who's the cop?" Simon says "No one," and he clubs him over the head with his handgun. Next thing we know, he's stringing us all up alongside Kelly.

"I'm going to my car to get a chainsaw, and when I get back, you're gonna tell me which one of you's the undercover cop."

Once he's gone, Kelly says, "Nice one. Brilliant fookin' rescue."

"No chance of a rewind, then?" Nathan asks Curtis. Luckily, I'm as far away from his as possible. Or unluckily. I'd really like to kick him in the balls, right about now. "Get your boyfriend to sort it out!" he shouts at Alisha.

"Ehm, he's not my boyfriend," she snaps.

"We split up, alright?" Curtis says, equally harshly.

"Aw, you guys too, eh? Pity… So you're available, then?"

"Not to you!" Alisha shouts.

There's an awkward silence. I'm still digesting this turn of events. "Nathan, you prick, if we survive this, the next thing you're going to have to worry about is _me_ taking a chainsaw to you," I say, unable to contain my fury any longer.

"No need to be jealous, Marnie!" he says, faux-cheerily. "We can still be friends with benefits, if you like."

"You are so fucking unbelievable!" I scream in frustration, flailing my legs and writhing against the shackles on my wrists. My arms are beginning to go numb and I feel pinpricks in the back of my eyes, but I refuse to cry. Not until I'm alone.

"Oh yes, scream it again, baby" he quips lecherously. "There's no shame in it – you're certainly not the first to say so, nor will you be the last."

"Will ya both shut it!" Kelly butts in. "I can't listen to this right now!"

"Where's the prick in the mask when you need him," Curtis mumbles.

All of a sudden, out of thin air, some girl appears. The wheels in my brain slowly process that she's the girl from the flat – the flat where Nathan shit on the bed. How the fuck did she get here?

"Why are you hanging from meat hooks?" she asks.

"This is some of the weird shit I was telling you about," Curtis replies. It's immediately clear that they know each other in some capacity beyond what the rest of us were aware of.

"Isn't that the girl's flat we broke into?" Kelly asks. Nathan smiles guiltily.

"The new guy's heart got transplanted into her," Curtis explains, "she's got his power."

"I guess that makes sense," Nathan comments.

"_You_," she says, stepping towards him.

"Hi. Sorry about – er – you know."

"Shitting in my bed?"

"Yeah. Wrong flat." He seems rather proud of himself.

She scoffs and Simon impatiently blurts out, "I think you're supposed to rescue us."

"Okay." She begins pulling one of the chains, but to no effect. Soon, the door opens and the sound of a chainsaw resonates through the building.

"Get out," Curtis warns her.

"I can't just do it whenever I want," she defends, sounding suspiciously like Curtis.

"Cos that would be far too convenient and useful," Nathan remarks snidely.

When psycho appears, he asks her, "Who are you?"

She hesitates, before replying, "It's complicated."

He sets down the chainsaw and points a gun at her. "Hands." And soon, she's strung up beside me. As this is going on, Simon says something to Nathan, but I can't make out what it is.

"I'm sorry you got into this," Curtis tells the other girl almost… affectionately? Wow, he got over Alisha fast.

"I really hope that thing doesn't start," Kelly says. Oh, it starts all right. I've never heard a more horrifying sound in my entire life.

He approaches Alisha first, and we all object loudly. He slides her off the bar we're hanging from and drags her to the center of the room.

"Wait!" Nathan shouts after what I suspect was some prodding from Simon. "Alright, alright, it's me, I'm the undercover cop! So, fire up the chainsaw and get with the sawin', and I'd appreciate it if you'd do it quickly and cleanly."

While psycho is distracted by Nathan's speech, Curtis kicks him in the face, causing him to stumble back. "Run!" he shouts to Alisha. And she does. She sprints into another room. Psycho follows her briskly, pistol raised.

"What about us?" I ask once they're gone.

"She'll come back for us," Simon assures the group. _But what if_… I don't want to voice it. I already know everyone is thinking it.

But she does come back. She does come back for us, and she saves us. And in the car on the ride back, everyone is silent. For different reasons, I suspect. Alisha seems sad, probably because this girl, Nikki, is sitting on Curtis' lap. And Nathan doesn't dare talk, now that he's within reach of my fist. _I_, on the other hand, am afraid that if I start talking I will cry. And I can't let everyone see me like this, in this weakened state. I don't want Nathan to know the sway he holds over my feelings.

It's funny how everything can turn to shit in a single day.

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><p><strong>Author's note: Please review and let me know your thoughts! Believe it or not, I do in fact have a plan for what's going to happen between these two, so you're going to just have to trust me for a little bit. Nathan's being a dickhead because he's hurt by the way Marnie's acting, in case that's not clear haha. And I know that some of you were kind of annoyed with how Marnie's behaving, which is actually good because, from my experience, people in relationships tend to do crazy things and a lot of times both parties are at fault (like in this case). Even though it's from her POV, that doesn't mean she's always right or I think she's always right. Anyway, sorry for rambling lol. Please review!<strong>


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's note: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! You guys are the best! I hope you all like this one.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 19<strong>

I can't get into my flat fast enough. As soon as I'm by myself, as soon as I begin the lonely and desolate trek back to my building, I feel an overwhelming wave of misery wash over me. Actually, the descent starts earlier, as soon as I hang my orange jumpsuit in my locker. My eyes burn and water and I must keep them open to prevent tears from rolling down my cheeks. I think I'm being subtle about it, this internal struggle, but the light pressure of Kelly's hand on my back informs me that I'm not as sly as I thought.

"You a'right?" she asks softly.

"Fine."

The locker door slams poignantly and I shoulder past everyone, away, away from their pity and their prying stares. I'm vaguely aware of Kelly reprimanding Nathan off in the distance, but by then I'm halfway out the door of the community center and too consumed by my own crippling sense of sorrow to find comfort in it.

I have done this to myself. I pushed too hard. I gave him an ultimatum, and, when he took it, I still kept pushing. I told him to get a job, and then I _still _kicked him out of the flat. I'm an idiot. This is my fault.

And I _love_ him. I don't fancy him. I haven't fancied him since long before I thought he was dead.

I cry violently on the sofa, far past the point when the endorphins swirl around in my brain and urge me to feel better. This isn't a catharsis. I don't expect any sort of emotional gratification afterwards. And when I finally do stop crying, it's only because my body has run out of water. I stand, shaky and sapped of energy, and start towards the faucet to stave of dehydration. I have no idea how long I have been in this blubbering state for, and it really doesn't seem to matter.

I'm faintly disgusted with myself for behaving so pathetically. I'm a grown woman. This isn't the first time I've been dumped. And yet, it _feels_ like it. I feel like a teenaged girl who's just had her heart broken, so much so that it's actually physically frustrating. It's like there's a knot in my stomach that won't be undone.

After chugging a large glass of water, I drag my feet all the way to the bathroom to wash my face. To cleanse myself of this situation. Not waiting for the water to heat up, I allow the coolness to soothe my swollen eyes and wash away the salty stickiness of my tears. I pat my face dry with a towel and watch my water-dabbled reflection in the mirror. I do look a mess, but, even now, I don't really think I'm ugly. But I want to nitpick every one of my facial features and find fault with all of them, because I know I can. In some twisted way, I think it will make me feel better. Perhaps because it will mask the truth of the predicament: my looks aren't what got me into this catastrophe. It was my personality – I'm just a fundamentally unpleasant person to be around. And when I get older and my looks fade, I'll still have a shitty personality.

_But Nathan's no walk in the sunshine, either. He has some serious flaws, too. It's not all my fault._

Somehow I don't believe these words as they flash across my mind, even though, logically, I should. They are true.

I flop on my bed and try with every ounce of willpower I possess not to allow memories to flood my head.

Part of me is angry, angry that I'm here sobbing while Nathan is probably chatting up some pretty barmaid at the pub. Or worse. And I can't even muster the strength to do anything but _lay here._

I think back to my previous boyfriends. I've had a decent number. Not heaps, but more than a few. I was upset when I broke up with each of them, but it was nothing like this. I was the normal, appropriate level of upset about the others. This? This is a whole new breed of despair. Maybe it was the supernatural element of the relationship that made it feel like _more_. Like something special.

I sound ridiculous. Special? What does that even mean? There is no such thing as "special."

But I still can't shake the crushing sensation of remorse and the feeling that _I did this to myself._ I was clingy and needy. This isn't the first time one of my relationships has failed because of these two toxic traits. They seem to crop up just when things are going well, just when they can do the most damage. I know that they are my demons, my inherent emotional deficiencies, and yet I still can't manage to shut them out. _I saw this coming. _There's something about knowing exactly what problem to anticipate and yet still being unable to prevent it that must constitute another level of stupidity.

These issues stem from one thing: I am insecure. I know this about myself, but I pretend I don't. I ignore it, I deny it. It's embarrassing. There's no room for insecurity in a place like this. People will eat you alive.

I pushed Nathan to the brink because I wanted to see how much he cared about me, how much he would put up with before he broke. I was justified in asking him to get a job, but… I handled it wrong.

It's there, in the dark, weighed down by self-pity on my lumpy and sunken mattress, that I have an epiphany. It hits me with such a strong force that something about it is almost religious.

I was wrong about my power. I'm not an empath because I care about others, because I have some skill in reading people. I'm an empath because I _use others to define myself_. I am whatever someone wants me to be. And when my true personality shows itself, when the neediness and the clinginess and the overall insecurity rear their ugly heads, I am rejected.

Maybe it's because I had a troubled childhood. Because my own mother rejected me in favor of a new family. But that's no excuse, only an explanation. I didn't know I had a troubled childhood until people started telling me I did. At the time, it all seemed normal.

They say the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem. I hope it's true.

**xOx**

"Some bastard killed me last night," Nathan groans from the floor of the locker room. I almost can't look at him, but I have to. My resolve to prove to myself that I'm not some feeble-minded loser will carry me through at least the remaining days of our community service.

"Are you windin' os op?" Kelly asks.

"No! No, cross my heart and hope to die… Or not." He sounds more forlorn than usual, even for someone who's just been murdered. I beat down the notion that it's because of me. _It doesn't matter why_.

"Who was it?" Curtis demands.

"I don't know, I was too busy being savagely beaten to death. And it's not a pleasant way to die!"

"Have you got any enemies?" Simon inquires.

I let out a low chuckle. "I can think of a couple. Myself included."

"No!" Nathan protests. "I'm universally popular and well-liked. Why would anyone want to kill me?"

"I can think of a few reasons," Curtis retorts, looking at me supportively. He and I have never been close mates, but I can't help but feel we now share the special bond of two people who have recently been dumped. Even though we're at different stages in the recovery process, even though he's already moved on and I'm still stuck in the crying-into-a-carton-of-ice-cream-whilst-watching-sappy-rom-coms stage.

"Definitely," Alisha adds, slinging her arm around me.

"Loads," Kelly confirms. I hadn't realized until now that the others seem to genuinely care about me. It's startling to admit how touched I am by it.

Nathan stares blankly at the lot of us, as if we've betrayed him in some way.

"You annoy people," Simon states with a smirk.

"Why would you even say something like that? That's very hurtful. I thought we were friends, you ungrateful little twat!"

"Don't speak to him like that," Alisha snaps.

"Why are you stickin' up for him?"

"It's not just him," she says quickly and – dare I say – defensively. "You're a prick to all of us and I'm sick of it. If we're really your 'friends,' you won't act like such a twat all the time."

"She's right," Kelly seconds.

"Oh c'mon, I know what this is really about," he says, pointing to me. "You're all siding with her in this, aren't you? Well that's not fair! She's not the only injured party in this! Who's to say my heart isn't broken too, hm?" The way he says the last part suggests that it is very far from the truth.

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here," I tell him icily.

"When did you become such a self-righteous bitch!" he exclaims in exasperation. I feel a small sense of triumph that I've finally managed to elicit some sort of authentic reaction out of him.

"Oi, that's enuff of that, yeah?" Kelly says threateningly. "Just cos you've been killed once today doesn't mean it ain't gonna 'appen again."

With that, the rest of us storm out, leaving Nathan on the ground.

As Kelly, Alisha, and I are stringing up banners for some charity event, I say, "Thanks for having my back back there. It was nice of you."

Kelly snorts. "As if there'd even be a choice between 'im n' you?"

"She's right," Alisha agrees. "Honestly, I think you're better off without him."

I smile sadly, but don't reply.

"If ya needa talk, we're 'ere," Kelly prods. I know she can read my thoughts, so any offer to listen to my troubles is borne purely out of politeness. I can't imagine that she actually expects me to take her up on it.

"Nah, it's fine," I state.

All of a sudden, the probation worker shoves Nathan into the center of the room and walks away. Nathan yells some expression of disapproval, looking greatly affronted while doing so. The rest of us – including me – start snickering as he clambers to his feet.

Nathan snaps his fingers and summons over Curtis and Alisha. Simon, meanwhile, is conversing with one of the non-compulsory volunteers. I remain immobile and watch as he animatedly describes some turn of events. Nathan and the girl Simon is talking to make eye contact and I can see his mouth moving rapidly as he mutters a diatribe of nonsense. I feel a tinge of fear in the pit of my stomach – has something happened between them?

I spend the majority of the day alone. Half out of choice, half out of necessity. Every so often I'll talk to Alisha, Kelly, Simon or Curtis, but Nathan and I actively avoid each other.

At times, it is in fact impossible to ignore Nathan. On the roof, for instance, he is describing what happened to him the previous night. The first night he's spent out of my flat.

"What do you mean, 'she killed you'?" Simon questions, his brow furrowed.

"I mean, she bashed my head against the sink like this – 'til my brains dribbled out of my ears." He demonstrates said bashing, after which point we are all momentarily rendered silent.

Finally, Simon defends, "She wouldn't do that."

"How do you know?" Alisha asks almost immediately. "You don't know anything about her."

"C'mon, man, it all adds up, do the maths."

"There is no 'maths'."

"Right," Nathan starts passionately, "she was here _plus_ no one else was around, _times_ she caught me leerin' at her semi-naked, _divided by _all the weird shit that happens to us, _equals_ guilty!"

Leering at her. He was leering at her, "semi-naked." I suppose that's better than finding out he was fucking her, at least. Kelly must hear this, as she casts me a sympathetic glance.

"That means absolutely nothing," Simon states.

"Oh my god really! She's a beautiful girl, and she's here, in the community center." I wince at the term "beautiful."

"So?"

"_So_ I seem to remember a similar scenario that resulted in me having sex with an eighty-two year old woman." Again, I wince.

"And there was that shape-shifter girl, she was mental," Curtis adds.

"Yeah, look what 'appened wit' you and that probation workah."

"_And_ did you know that some of these marathon runners shit themselves?"

"So you think that if a girl likes me, there must be something wrong with her?" Simon says grimly.

"No, that's not what we're saying," Alisha tries to reason with him.

"Isn't it?"

"Shut the fuck up, Nathan. Look, Simon, we don't think that. We're just warning you to be careful," I pipe in. "Girls who visit the community center don't exactly have the best track record." It's only after I say this that I realize "track record" probably wasn't the best choice of words.

"I thought that was exactly what we were saying," Nathan continues.

Simon gives him a death glare and storms off before anyone can further dispute Nathan's senselessness.

"Do you _ever_ stop acting like such a prick?" I say to him.

"Look, love, I'm sorry you're cross with me. But this constant sass has got to stop!"

"I'll stop when you stop!"

"The two of you are acting like kids," Curtis interrupts. "Look at me n' Alisha. We're fine. Both of you need to grow up."

Nathan turns his head to me and fidgets. That's what I kept telling him before we broke up, and he clearly remembers it. "Okay fine, look," he says, "I don't want to fight with you. Truce?" He holds out his hand.

To tell the truth, I don't want to fight either. Reluctantly, I shake it. I feel a tremendous surge of sorrow when our skin touches… Because of me. The insults, the cheery disposition – it's a farce, just as I suspected. It's a desperate attempt to seem impervious to it all. He's cut up too. He misses me too. This is an enormous consolation, to know that he's just as depressed as I am, that I'm not the more affected party.

He retracts his hand immediately as he remembers my power. "Shit," he mutters. We lock eyes meaningfully; I will him to understand that he needn't be ashamed, that I feel the same way. But he looks away quickly, as if nothing has happened.

"But you're gonna have to get used to me pulling women, Marns," he says, his jovial tone never faltering. The garbage he spews is like a reflex to prevent sincerity. It never stops. "Cos it's gonna take more than a little break up to keep this guy down." He pats his crotch fondly and I find it difficult to recall what I'd ever seen in him in the first place.

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><p><strong>Author's note: Let me know what you think! I wasn't a 100% confident with how I had Marnie handle this. I thought maybe I made her too dramatic? But at the same time, she really does love Nathan. And when something is your own fault (or perceived to be) I feel like that makes it 10x harder. Please review! :-)<strong>


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's note: Hey guys! Thanks so much to those of you who reviewed the last chapter! As you already know, it really does mean the world to me. Hope you all like this one.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 20<strong>

The next day, Nathan is still insisting that this girl "Jessica" is a murderer. While he is in the midst of telling the story of another killing that took place the previous night (which, by the way, no one told me about until now), Simon walks over.

"Jessica's invited us to a fancy dress party tonight," he announces with a smile.

No one looks particularly enthused, least of all Nathan. "You know what, you were right, man," he says. "I've just been having a rough time after the whole, you know, _break up _thing. And I was jealous of your – er – neat hair and your… the strange starin' that the ladies seem to love so much. And I hope that you and – er – "

"Jessica," Simon assists after some prodding.

"Jessica, lovely, _lovely_ Jessica, I hope you'll be very happy together."

"Maybe you and Marnie can work things out," he tries.

"Yeah, maybe, maybe not. I've got somethin' else in the works, though. Me n' this girl… Mo… Monique-a. Moniqa. She's French." My only solace is that this tale is clearly a lie.

"You should invite her to the party," Simon suggests, amused.

"Well, I would, but you know I think it might be a little too soon for poor Marnie over there," he says in a conspiratorial whisper. "But seein' as this party's happenin' ten feet from my bedroom, I will see you there!"

With another smile, Simon hands him a pamphlet and walks off.

"Are you serious?" Alisha demands.

"When am I ever serious? But we need to be there. To keep an eye on her. Alright? Think about it – it's a fancy dress party, it's dark, we'll all be wearing masks – it's the perfect opportunity to commit murder!... And incest!"

"Who's Moooniqa?" I joke. I'm still pissed off, but at least we're on speaking terms. I'm obviously going to have to make an effort in this ordeal, seeing as he's still shown no sign of changing his ways and we can't very well be at each others' throats every second of every day. Plus, he's clearly struggling to conceal his deeply buried fondness for Simon, which, regrettably, I can't help but find endearing.

"That is the worst made-up name I've ever heard," Curtis laughs.

"Y'know, names were never my strong point, but I think the whole French thing sold it." Just as he finishes his sentence, he randomly douses a passing runner with a glass of water. After the man calls him a prick, he replies, "Sorry mate!"

**xOx**

Later on, I set out to find Nathan. I realize that this is all becoming rather formulaic, but once again, I feel that we should talk alone. Maybe if I explain to him that I was wrong, that I shouldn't have pushed him, we can work towards some sort of reconciliation. As much as it pains me to admit, I _do _want to get back together and, from what I felt, so does he. I don't see any reason why we should have to continue this miserable game of pretending we don't care when we obviously do.

I find him in one of the hallways, sitting on a chair that is the exact shade of orange as our community service jumpsuits.

"Nathan?"

"Hey."

"Hey." I sit beside him. "We should probably talk about the other day."

He sighs deeply. "What other day?" he counters, playing dumb. "All that sink-head bashin'… forgive me if my memory's a little spotty."

"When we shook hands. My power…"

"Oh. That. Yeah. Yeah, I know." His elbows are resting on his knees, hands clasped. The slight hunch makes him seem even more dejected than the situation calls for and his sights remain fixed on the tile beneath our feet. I know that he is avoiding eye contact for a reason, that he doesn't want to let me see the extent to which all this has impacted him. "I realized it too late…" he murmurs candidly.

"I feel the same way," I hastily blurt out. "In case you were worried that I didn't… I do." I resist the urge to clutch his hand, not wanting to put him off with physical contact. He can't think that I'm using my power to read him – this needs to happen naturally.

He lifts his green-eyed gaze from the floor to study me cautiously and, to my great astonishment, doesn't say anything.

"…So where does that leave us?" I prompt.

He returns his stare to his feet and knits one hand into his unruly mane. "I dunno, man. This whole splitting up thing is shitty. _Really _shitty. I don't remember it being so shitty all those other times…" he mutters, half to himself.

"I shouldn't have pressured you," I continue. "I shouldn't have been so demanding. I don't know what I wanted… I just… I can get insecure sometimes. I'm sorry that I seemed so annoying, I just wanted to make sure that you cared about me. That you cared enough to change. But I realize why I was doing it, now. You don't have to change, you're fine how you are."

"I do have to change," he insists as soon as I finish. "You were right about one thing – you were right about it not bein' fair that I don't have a job and you do. And if you want this to be serious – for this to be for the long haul – I'm gonna have to change. But I just don't know if I'm ready." The long haul? What does that mean? Does he… What he said before, about it not being as shitty the other times… That's how I felt.

"So what does that mean?" I ask, wringing my hands. I've more or less completely abandoned any attempt at disguising my feelings from him, at least for the moment. He needs to know. Maybe if he knows, he will modify his actions accordingly. It seems to be working so far, as I've just gotten him to admit that he wants to be in a serious relationship with me. The only problem is he's apparently not ready.

"I think maybe you were on to something with the whole 'taking a break' bollocks," he admits.

I nod, swallowing a lump in my throat. I'll wait for him. It's not even a question. "Okay," I say.

"Okay," he repeats, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "The party's startin' soon. We oughtta get changed into our costumes then, yeah?" His tone is now perky as ever – it's as if the somber conversation from seconds ago never even happened. I can't help but marvel at how fluidly he slips between personas; it's almost too impressive to be so maddening.

**xOx**

We all agreed earlier to dress as superheroes for the party; the irony of it was far too tempting to pass up. However, Alisha, Kelly, and I soon found that there is not much variance in the way of female superheroes (or super_heroines_, if you prefer). All the costumes were equally revealing and skintight, so the options weren't exactly vast. Kelly decided to don a cat suit and mask, while Alisha chose a wig and a jumpsuit that was vaguely reminiscent of one of the Fantastic Four outfits. I ended up grabbing a V-neck fuchsia and black leotard, complete with black fishnets and thigh-high boots. I'm fully aware how slutty it is, but that's what fancy dress parties are for, right?

Plus, as much as I am loath to say it, I want to show Nathan what he's missing. The better I look, the more inclined he'll be to change his ways. At least that's what I'm hoping.

The sound of music and movement in the community signals that people are beginning to arrive, and I really should start getting ready.

I get dressed with deliberation, like I truly am a preparing for battle. This night is important for reasons that extend beyond Nathan – Simon's safety is still a priority, too. After applying a liberal amount of black eyeliner and pink lipstick, I slide on my shiny boots. They have a heel, but it's not so high that I would be unable to run if the occasion necessitated it.

Once my costume is properly assembled, I strut out of the locker room with an unfamiliar confidence that stems from looking like someone else. The others are gathered in the main room – which is now a balloon-infested dance floor – and I join them. Nathan, Simon, and Curtis gape at me and I try not to let it go to my head. I expect they did the same with Kelly and Alisha (they look great, too), I just wasn't there to see it.

"You look nice," Alisha comments, smirking at the boys' reaction.

"Thanks. So do you two," I say. Simon and Curtis quickly recover, but Nathan's dazed expression has yet to break. I lock eyes with him, which (unfortunately?) seems to snap him out of it. He's got a piece of black fabric obscuring the upper part of his face and is wearing an orange costume complete with foam muscles.

"Does anyone else feel like a total cunt?" he says, surveying the crowd. The rest of us mutely agree with him.

It's not long before Simon, clad in a wrestling mask, leaves the rest of the group to kiss Jessica on the dance floor. Alisha rolls her eyes. It strikes me then that she's be acting… _different_ lately. Not in a bad way, but there's definitely been a significant change in her personality.

Cowgirl Jessica flashes Simon a gap-toothed grin as they gradually disappear into the mass of people.

"Nice costume," Nathan comments.

"Eh, she looks like a slut," Alisha deadpans. Again, _weird. _She seems almost… jealous. But no, that's ludicrous.

"Yeah, a cute, slutty, murderin' psychopath," Nathan agrees.

I glare at him for this comment, but he doesn't see me; soon, Kelly also breaks off from the rest of us, leaving only the two former couples.

"Well, we're here," I start lamely, "and they're dancing… We might as well join them."

"Yeah, a'right," Alisha says.

We push through the crowd and begin dancing within viewing range of Simon. The boys don't exactly follow us, but stand nearby. They seem to be enjoying the show Alisha and I are putting on.

However, it's not long before Simon and Jessica are lost amongst the sea of people. We rush off to find them and end up splitting up; Curtis goes towards the roof, Alisha the locker room, and Nathan another part of the community center. I stay on the dance floor in case they come back, and Kelly is still nowhere to be found.

It must be obvious that I'm looking for someone from the way I'm moving, because someone grabs my hips and says, "Why aren't you dancing, babe?" Oh no. Oh shit. My power...

He doesn't let go of me, so I spin around to see who it is. It's the random guy that Nathan doused with water as he was running. He's tall and has really nice hair. Straight hair, not like Nathan's. He's quite fit, actually, I think. And _he_ thinks I'm really beautiful, and he wants to dance with me, and before I know what's happening I'm grinding against him and I don't stop myself because I feel everything he feels: need, desire, attraction. We stay front-to-front for a little while, the physical connection never breaking, and soon his mouth goes to work on my neck. I throw my head back to give him a better angle almost instinctually.

And then, through all the writhing bodies, I see Nathan. Staring at me blankly. The only evidence that he even recognizes me is the hurt displayed in his barely-distinguishable eyes. Even from this far distance, I can see it. I can _sense_ it.

It's enough to jar me out of this horrid trance. I push myself away from this person, this person I don't even know, to chase after him. I run, my heels clanging against the tile. We're in the same deserted section of the community center we were in earlier when I finally catch up.

"Nathan, please," I say, grabbing his shoulder.

He shrugs me off instantly. "Don't," he snaps.

"Please," I repeat, "It was my power – I didn't mean…"

"No, I get it," he snaps again, still not turning towards me. "You're trying to make me jealous. Fair enough. We're not together, you can do what you like and I can do what I like."

"It's not like that, I promise! I don't even know who that was! He just grabbed me, and my power made me react like that!"

"Oh, so that's how it works, then?" he sneers, squaring off with me. "Every time a guy who wants to fuck you touches you, you automatically have to go along with it? Sounds a lot like Alisha's power."

I don't know how to reply. "No, but –"

"You can't have it both ways, Marnie. Which one is it? You _have _to go along with it, or you _want_ to? You seemed to break the connection easily enough once you saw me."

Tears prick the backs of my eyes. He's right. I could have broken the connection sooner. I did it before, with him, when I was under that Jesus freak's spell and he kissed me. I decide to switch tactics.

"Fine, maybe you're right. Maybe on some subconscious level, I wanted that to happen – to feel wanted, to feel attractive to someone."

"And you're entitled to feel that way," he says with some perceptible difficulty. "If you want to use some random bloke to try to make me jealous, that's your prerogative." He starts to walk away again, but I'm not finished.

"You're not getting away so easily," I continue. "You've no right to feel jealous, not after all that talk about other girls, about 'cute Jessica' and 'pulling women.' You've absolutely no right."

"I never said I was jealous," he says defensively. "I said you've every right to _try_ to make me jealous. There's a difference."

"Please, I don't even need to use my power to know that what I did made you jealous. Don't bullshit me."

"In case you haven't noticed, Marnie, I never actually _did_ anything with any other girls, especially not in front of you. That was all talk." He's surprisingly earnest, now, and I feel the need to take advantage of this rare window of sincerity. "This – I just watched you dry hump some other guy," he continues. "So yeah, I admit it, maybe I'm a little peeved. But don't you worry, I'll get over it. And I'll be sure to return the favor."

I open my mouth to say something – _anything_ – to remedy the situation, but the words won't come. Instead, he takes this opportunity to storm away, leaving me standing in the middle of the lonely corridor.

**xOx**

A few hours after my almighty row with Nathan, I run into Alisha and Kelly. They're sitting on the roof as the sun rises, both looking like they've had an equally rough night. I silently sit next to Alisha, across from Kelly, who's smoking a cigarette.

For a few minutes, no one says anything. Eventually, I say, "Is everyone all right?"

"Yeah," Alisha starts slowly, "I saved Simon from being killed – turns out it was that girl's dad who was the murderer, not her. I bashed his head in with a fire extinguisher. On the downside, though, I ran into Curtis shaggin' that girl whose flat we broke into."

"I'm sorry, that's awful," I say. "If it makes you feel any better, I had a shit night too. Nathan and I got into a _huge _fight after he saw me dancing with this other guy... How 'bout you, Kelly, are you all right?"

"No. I shagged a monkey, and then 'e got shot," she states, smoke pouring out of her mouth as she speaks.

"_What_?"

"It's a long story. 'ad ta do with the storm. 'e was really sweet, ta be honest. Most people fink one thing about ya and say somefin' else to your face, but 'e wasn't like that. 'e thought nice things about me."

"I'm sorry," I say awkwardly, not quite sure of the proper response.

The boys appear several minutes later, all in one piece. Curtis immediately sits beside Alisha and quietly says, "Alisha, are you all right? I didn't mean for you to see that."

She thinks it over for a minute, before answering, "It's fine. It must be nice havin' a girlfriend you can actually shag."

"Hey Jesus," Nathan says to Simon, "what with everything that went on tonight, I almost forgot about you and your girl! So she didn't brutally murder you, then?"

"It was her dad," he admits, scratching the back of his head repentantly. "He's been arrested. Jessica isn't a psychopathic killer… She's a virgin."

"I knew there was somethin' wrong with her!"

"There isn't anymore," Simon says with a sly smile. What? Simon got laid tonight?! Well, at least one of us didn't have a fucking horrible time.

I swear Nathan almost starts tearing up in surprise. "I'm proud of you, man," he laughs, embracing Simon. "I will expect to hear every disgusting detail," he tells him when the break apart. The whole thing is very sweet despite what he's actually saying, and I feel a fresh stab of regret pass through my heart. _What have I done?_

"Hey! This calls for a celebration!" Nathan continues. It'd be impossible to tell that we'd had an enormous fight mere hours ago. He begins to pass out beers to everyone.

"Maybe this is what it feels like to be a superhero," Simon remarks.

"I think it'd take more than you gettin' laid to feel like a superhero," Nathan points out.

But for a little while, standing atop the community center in the early morning wearing our costumes, we _do_ feel like superheroes.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: Let me know what you think! Reviews are greatly appreciated, especially since we're at chapter 20 and almost at the end of season 2! Thanks for reading :-)<strong>


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's note: Hey everyone! Thanks so much to those of you who reviewed the last chapter! Because what happens in episode six technically doesn't happen in the show's timeline, I'm writing this part in 3rd person instead of 1st. Hope you all like it!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 21<strong>

The group of miscreant community service workers enjoys a break in the television room, indifferently watching a news special on a nerdy-looking boy with the ability of "lacto-kinesis." It's hardly rare to see them slacking off while on the clock, but blatantly staring at the TV might be considered a smidgeon excessive, even for them. This new level of apathy is rooted in the fact that there are only two remaining days of community service.

"That 'as got to be the shittest powah evah," Kelly eloquently voices.

The rest of young offenders is shocked, however, to learn that someone has managed to profit from the side effects of the storm.

"That is bollocks," Marnie agrees, "But if this guy's gettin' famous off that piece of shit power, imagine what would happen to us!"

"I need to take a piss," Nathan states abruptly, leaving the room. It's not immediately apparent whether he is being deliberately rude to his repentant ex-girlfriend, or if he's truly oblivious to the fact that he's acting like a prick.

Curtis and Simon leave, too, (albeit more gracefully) and soon the males are conversing in the lavatory.

"I can't believe this guy's gone public," Curtis comments.

"Yeah, well you better believe it, cos he's gonna make a fortune," says Nathan. "Maybe we should think about doin' the same – the early bird catches the massive paycheck." He pauses to stare at Curtis' penis, causing everyone a great deal of discomfort. "Nice cock, man."

"Fuck. Off," Curtis warns venomously.

"I don't think going public's a good idea," Simon interjects.

"Look, we finish our community service in two days – count them, alright. I don't know about you, but I'm not exactly swamped with lucrative job offers. We need to think about cashin' in on our powers," Nathan insists.

They finish up their business at the urinal and move on to the sinks, all the while unaware that their probation worker is sat smugly in one of the stalls, smoking a cigarette and eavesdropping on their entire conversation.

"I mean, I'm immortal!" Nathan exclaims, examining his reflection in the mirror. "I shouldn't be flippin' burgers, I should be… eating burgers – massive burgers, the size of my head! And think about it, we could have really cool superhero names. Captain Invincible," he dubs himself. "Mr. Backwards," he calls Curtis.

"I sound retarded," he states indelicately. There is, however, the slightest trace of mirth beneath his resentment.

Nathan, unhindered, points to Simon and says, "The Invisible Cunt."

"Why do I have to be the Invisible Cunt?"

"Cos you just are, man, get over it. I mean, what's the point in all of us havin' superpowers if we can't use them to make obscene amounts of money and shag loads of drunk, impressionable girls – it's clearly what God intended for us, and I for one will not let him down!" He kisses his fingers at the end of this speech. It's unclear whether he's stopped talking intentionally or simply run out of breath.

"I take it things aren't goin' so well with Marnie, then?" Curtis remarks with a sly smirk, only half-serious. In reality, he couldn't be bothered to care about the whole thing – drama is something he makes a point of staying far, far away from. But, on the other hand, it's clear that any mention of the girl's name twists the dagger in Nathan's heart, so to speak. And fuel to injure Nathan is both incredibly hard to find and impossible to pass up once you have it.

He snorts, unwilling to betray any inkling of sincerity; Curtis _has_ struck a nerve, but Nathan's emotional barriers are raised to their full heights, effectively construing any reaction as blasé. "That ship has sailed, mate. A long, _long_ time ago. I'm on to bigger and better things, things that include drinking copious amounts of alcohol and exploiting my powers to get laid. I don't give a shit about her or who she chooses to cavort with – a fanny's a fanny, man, and it doesn't really matter who it belongs to as long as she lets you, y'know, stick it in."

"Charming," Simon mumbles sarcastically. It's evident that he doesn't approve of the way Nathan is talking about their friend, but he, like Curtis, has no desire to get more involved than he already is.

Curtis simply rolls his eyes in repulsion, and the conversation comes to a halt as they exit the bathroom and rejoin the others.

Alisha immediately calls out to Simon. "What's going on with you and Jessica?" she inquires almost tentatively.

"After what happened with her dad, she said she can't see me, so…"

"Seein' a girl whose dad tried to kill you… It's never gonna work," she pauses, gauging Simon's reaction, before continuing, "You'll meet someone else – trust me."

They stare at one another for a while, though Simon is clearly disconcerted by the notion of sustained eye contact. Eager to break the awkwardness, he walks ahead to the exit, leaving Alisha visibly frustrated with either him or herself.

No one is given the chance to contemplate this unusual interaction, however, because Simon is greeted by dozens of paparazzi at the door. Everyone is equally shocked by this turn of events.

"What was that?" Curtis demands.

"They know about us," Simon says, panicked.

"Who?" Nathan questions.

"Everyone!"

"Wot are you talkin' about?"

"There are reporters and TV cameras outside – lots of them!"

"Bullshit."

"No way."

"Are you serious?" Alisha's voice cuts through the fray.

Simon nods tersely, jaw clenched.

"Alright," Nathan says, rushing towards the door, "I think I might take a little peek."

Simon stops him hastily. "Don't open the door!"

Despite his efforts, Nathan slips past. After standing outside for a short while, he closes the door once again and states with a laugh, "That is really quite a lot of reporters!"

"'ow did they find out about os?"

Everyone turns to Nathan, eying him suspiciously.

"What? No, I didn't do anything," he defends. "I don't think I did… I'm almost certain I didn't."

"If it wasn't you, then who was it?" Marnie demands impatiently.

Just then, the probation worker strolls by. "You!" Nathan shouts in an accusatory tone. The other man turns around with an air of innocence; it's as if he knows what Nathan's going to say before he says it. "You told them about us."

"Yeah," he admits with a guilty grin.

"You sit on your ass doin' nothing for six weeks, then you sell us out?" Curtis states, glaring furiously.

"Looks like that, dunnit? Is that ironic? I'm never too sure…"

"You're our probation workah, you're supposed ta sort os out!"

"Well, I'm sure you'll be fine."

"Like you give a shit!" Alisha snaps.

"That's a good point. Later."

"Where're you going?"

"Ibiza. So, this is goodbye, so long, and fuck off." On that note, he continues on his way.

"Wankah!" Kelly yells after him.

The gang stands there in a circle, all quite unnerved.

"I'm actually very surprised that this hasn't happened sooner," Nathan breaks the silence, "We haven't really been that careful."

"What are they gonna do to us?" Marnie asks, scared.

"They'll treat us like freaks," Simon answers without any hesitation. "They'll lock us up in a secret military facility and conduct experiments on us."

"Hey, no one's experimentin' on me," Nathan states, "I'm not a monkey."

"Wot are we gonna do?"

"We have to go into hiding. We assume new identities, we break off all connection with our family and friends, we wear disguises and only go out after dark." Simon's really taking the initiative on this one, and it's clear that he's considered this possibility before. Or perhaps he's just read too many comic books…

"I'm not lovin' the sound of that," Curtis sneers.

"Yeah, do you expect me never to see my mum again? Who's gonna do my washin', huh? You've not thought this through."

"There is an alternative," rings an unfamiliar voice. The jumpsuit-clad volunteers turn to see a smartly dressed woman at the entrance of the community center.

"Who are you?" Marnie interrogates.

"I'm the person who can make it so you don't have to go into hiding. If this is handled right, you're all making some serious money," she says confidently.

Again, the young offenders look at one another. "Give us a moment, yeah?" Alisha says.

"Of course. Take your time, talk it through."

The six break into a huddle. "What are we thinkin'?" Nathan asks quietly.

"This isn't why we got our powers," Simon answers.

"No, there is no 'why,' there's only 'what.' What are we gonna spend all our money on?"

"None of us even know what we're doing after we finish, better than signing on," Curtis says.

"Wot about the people we killed," Kelly wisely points out.

"I guess we should ask her about that," Alisha says. They turn to face the still-unknown woman.

"Now I'm not sayin' we have," Nathan tactlessly begins, "but what would happen – hypothetically speaking – if it came to light that we may have killed one or two people? Probation workers and such, no on important."

"I would say," she starts slowly, "that these people you may or may not have killed were evil. You were protecting society – you're not murderers, you're heroes – superheroes. Rich, famous superheroes… And if that doesn't work, we vanish the bodies and pay off the relatives."

Everyone save Marnie and Simon looks wholly won-over. "Good answer," Nathan commends with a grin.

"Sign us up," Curtis says.

"Good."

"You're making a mistake," Simon objects.

"We should all stick together," Alisha hisses.

"Just do it wiv os."

"I don't really trust her either, Simon, but Alisha's right – we have to stick together," Marnie whispers.

"This will change everything." Without further ado, he strides towards the door. He snubs the woman's attempt to give him her card, leaving his five friends in his wake.

Later, once they're alone in the locker room, Alisha is quick to ask, "Do you trust her?"

"No," Marnie states bluntly.

"Lookit that bloke with the milk powah," Kelly disputes, "Nofin' bad 'appened to 'im."

Nathan opens his mouth to support her, but the woman walks in before he gets the opportunity. "They're waiting for you," she announces. "They're calling you the ASBO Five."

"I 'aven't even got an ASBO," Curtis snaps.

"No one cares," she says professionally. "Okay. Any questions you don't want to answer, just let me handle it."

"Okay," Nathan's voice penetrates the room, "Teeth? Good. Hair? Beautiful. Cock? In, fly's up. Let's go be famous."

Then, heads held high, the five friends stride out of the locker room and into an entirely new world.

**xOx**

Simon roams the halls of the Grand Hotel in search of his community service mates; he's clad in all black and has been keeping his head down since the incident. Luckily, the other five have taken the heat off of him, and hardly anyone is even aware that there was a sixth member of the ASBO gang.

He first sees Nathan, shirtless, bidding some scantily clad woman farewell from the door of his hotel room. He follows him into the room, all the way into the bathroom. Nathan is mid-piss before he realizes that Simon is present. "Jesus!" he exclaims when he sees him in the mirror. "What are you doing skulking around in my bathroom?"

"Sorry," he says, "my parents are freaking out about the invisible thing. I didn't have anywhere else to go."

Nathan looks at him sympathetically. "Can I stay with you?" he continues.

"Yeah sure, man. Hey, hang back a few minutes though… I just wanna go slip these girls one before they sober up."

Simon makes a face of disapproval as Nathan practically skips out of the bathroom. He calls after him, "Are you sure you want to be doing that?"

"Positive!" he answers from the other room.

"What about Marnie?"

"If you're gonna stay here, that name will not be mentioned. Agreed?"

"Fine. I just hope you know what you're doing. If you act like this, you're going to ruin any chance you have of getting back together with her," he explains.

"Duly noted!"

**xOx**

A few hours later, in the conference room, Nathan makes his entrance several minutes after everyone else has arrived. "Sorry I'm late," he brags, "I was just enjoyin' the fruits of our newfound fame and celebrity." Everyone looks appropriately irked, most of all Marnie. "You know I'm not talkin' about fruit, although you should see the size of my fruit bowl – massive."

"You shagged those skanks?" Marnie demands in disbelief.

"I most certainly did."

Kelly, Curtis, and Alisha share a knowing look. Whatever was about to transpire was certainly not going to end well.

"I was just saying," the woman interrupts, "that if there is something you don't want to see in the papers, tell me now and I can deal with it."

"Everythin' about me has already been in the papers," Curtis states.

"Do any of your ex-boyfriends have any intimate photographs or videos of you?" she asks Alisha.

"I'll delete 'em," Curtis agrees with his mouth full.

"Make sure you do. And you?" she asks Marnie, who is already having a difficult enough time keeping it together.

"Wait a sec," Nathan interjects, speaking to Curtis, "She sent you dirty pictures? How come I never got any from you?" he asks his ex-girlfriend.

By this point, it's completely obvious that Marnie is on the verge of tears and Nathan is just throwing salt in the wound. "Leave 'er alone, yeah?" Kelly snaps threateningly.

"Right," the woman says loudly. "Is there anything else I need to know?"

Nathan raises his hand. "Just before I started my community service, there was this incident with this girl…" he starts unrelentingly.

"What kind of incident?"

"Right… I picked her up in this dentist's waiting room – she was havin' some kind of oral surgery – so we go out, few drinks, couple o' kebabs, alright, and then it's straight back to her place and start with the shaggin'. And I've built up a nice rhythm, and I'm gettin' really close to blowing my load – just hovering in the pleasure zone – and then bam! All hell breaks loose. I tripled myself."

Before anyone can verbally react, Marnie stands, eyes glistening, and rushes out of the room. Nathan doesn't even flinch. Everyone else looks a combination of confused, angry, and disgusted.

"I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with that term," the woman says finally once she's regained her composure.

"Y'know, triplin'. It's when you come, puke, and shit yourself all at the same time."

The company looks as though they are all about to be sick. "For fook's sake," Kelly complains.

"Three bodily functions, doin' the triple. You're tellin' me that's never happened to you?"

"No!" Curtis answers immediately.

"Anyway, I lied about my name, so she probably doesn't even remember me."

"I don't think she's _ever_ forgettin' you," Alisha states.

"Anyone else?" the woman manages.

"Er, I shagged a monkey," Kelly casually adds.

The woman exhales in disbelief. The ASBO Five clearly has more skeletons in their closet than she had anticipated.

"Technically, it was a gorilla," Nathan corrects.

"Alright," she says with a deep sigh, "I'll take care of it. _You_," she points to Nathan, "take care of Marnie. Whatever is going on between the two of you is unacceptable. All of you are supposed to be a team, and now that she's already signed her contract I can't have her leaving because of you, understand? It will reflect poorly on all of us."

"Yeah sure, whatever," Nathan dismisses. To be honest, he is growing very tired of everyone telling him to make amends with her and treating him like _he's _the bad guy, when _she's _the one who was grinding up on other guys in the first place. Sure, maybe she's the more likeable of the two of them, but that doesn't change the fact that he was the one wronged. At least at the beginning. He supposes that now they're about even.

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><p><strong>Author's note: Please review! Reviews = updates :-) And yes, I know I'm being cruel, but just bear with me...<strong>


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's note: Hey, everyone! As always, thanks to all the reviewers! So this chapter is still in 3rd person, and it's in past tense. You guys don't seem to care too much about my annoying POV and tense switching, but I just like to warn you ahead of time lol. **

**ALSO: One of the reviewers, Eymi, asked me if I know of any good Rudy/OC stories, and I can unfortunately say that I do not. If you guys know of any, maybe post the titles in the comments? She's French, which reminded me to tell you guys that the lovely charlotte . pipereau translated the first chapter of Immaturity at its Finest into French, and it's called _L'immaturité dans toute sa splendeur_. If anyone speaks French, you should check it out (there's a link in my profile)!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 22<strong>

Marnie stormed through the hotel's hallways, tears obscuring her vision. She didn't know what she'd expected to happen. Of course Nathan was upset with her for what she did. Of course he would want retribution. She should have seen this coming. What's the saying? Get mad or get even? Well, Nathan certainly chose to get even. And then some.

What he'd done was far crueler than anything she had ever thought him capable of. After all they'd been through, all the times she'd seen through his charades, she didn't think he would be able to hurt her in such a way – not that he didn't know how to, but that he would be able to _bring himself_ to hurt her in such a way. Obviously, she had underestimated him.

Once in the sanctuary of her hotel room, she fell back on the plush bed. The action recalled memories of how she'd felt mere days earlier, back at her shithole flat, before this whirlwind. Everything was so different and so similar at the same time. Even all this – all the money and fame – couldn't save her. Really, the only thing that had changed was the setting; her emotions remained the same.

But the tears didn't flow the way that had before. Now, she was stronger. She didn't feel guilty, she felt livid, and her anger gave her strength. Her anger gave her something to cling to when she wavered, when she felt like she was about to crumble.

A knock roused her from her these thoughts. She stood to open the door, revealing none other than Simon.

"What are you doing here?" she questioned in surprise.

"My parents are freaking out. I've been staying with Nathan – you can't tell anyone that you've seen me, I'm in hiding." After the words were out in the open, Simon chastised himself for using Nathan's name. "You're upset," he noticed after a moment.

"Come in," she said flatly. He did, and diligently closed the door behind him.

"What's the matter?" he asked. He remained standing as she sat on the edge of her bed. "Did you find out about those girls?"

Marnie let out a dark, tearful chuckle. The way he said it made it seem far more innocuous than it was. "Yeah."

"He's just doing it to hurt you," Simon tried compassionately. "He still cares about you. He's just trying to get back at you."

"I know, but somehow I don't think that dancing with one guy equates to shagging half a dozen sluts. It's like shooting someone holding a pistol with a missile launcher."

"You're right," Simon agreed. "I tried to talk him out of it…"

"It's fine, it's not your responsibility. Anyway, what did you want to tell me?"

Simon was slightly torn regarding what to do, but he decided it was best to get to the point rather than further discuss his friends' romantic intrigue. "Back at the community center, you agreed with me. You said you didn't trust her. I was wondering if you could help me convince the others that this isn't the right decision."

Marnie nodded. "I did say that, but so far she hasn't done anything even remotely untrustworthy. I don't think she has any incentive to harm us – she's getting rich off all this, too. Plus, as far as I can see, the others are thoroughly enjoying all the attention."

He only looked half-convinced. "Still, something isn't right. This doesn't just happen – people with superpowers don't just get to enjoy their fame," he stated passionately. "Something bad always happens."

"I think you've seen a few too many films."

This was clearly not the response he was hoping for, as he furrowed his brow and said, "I should go."

"I'm sorry to have disappointed you, but you don't have to leave."

"I should, though. You have a party to be getting to."

**xOx**

Marnie walked into the hotel bar, trying not to look as fragile as she felt. She wore a violet dress that was far nicer than anything she would have been able to afford and her hair fell in loose curls. The first thing she did upon entering the room was grab a champagne flute and gulp down the sparkling liquid; it didn't escape her notice that the waitresses were pretty blondes wearing orange jumpsuits. She didn't doubt that Nathan would be sleeping with several of them before the night was over.

Aaand speak of the devil: Nathan spotted her straight away. He strode over and ushered her to one of the corners of the room, stating, "I need to talk to you for a minute."

Screaming at him would do nothing, she reminded herself. He would find it far more disconcerting if she were civil. "Was there something you wanted?" she asked calmly, her voice conveying none of the pain that she was experiencing.

He released her like a hot potato, noticeably taken aback by her reaction (or, rather, lack thereof). "You're not cross with me?"

"Of course not."

He narrowed his eyes, looking skeptical. "This isn't one o' those reverse psychology things, is it?"

"No, Nathan, I think we should be mature about this. My being angry with you for shagging women isn't going to help anything, especially since we're going to be forced to spend a lot of time together because of this whole ordeal. In the future, though, I would appreciate it if you could keep the details of your exploits to yourself. You understand, right?"

"Errr – yeah," he stammered uncertainly. "Sure. If you say so. So… we're cool, then?"

"Yes, it's fine. Let's go find the others."

And so, they did. Everyone was more nicely coiffed than they usually were; both Alisha and Kelly were wearing dresses as well, and Curtis donned some sort of tracksuit.

All of a sudden, the lacto-kinesis boy approached them. "Hi," he greeted. "Good to see you."

"Oh, you're that milk guy, innit?" Curtis replied.

"It's not just milk, it's all dairy products," he corrected haughtily.

"So you're here to make the coffees, then," Nathan quipped.

"I'm done making other people coffee. People make _my_ coffee now."

"Sooo what's the point in having your power?" Alisha asked slyly.

"Were you one o' those fat kids who had milk seepin' out of his man-boobs during puberty?" Nathan baited.

"No," the other male said, clearly unsure of how to deal with the situation.

"We had a kid like that at our school – we used to milk him every lunchtime," he continued, circling him.

Much to Marnie's dismay, the others were beginning to snicker at Nathan's tale.

"I wasn't one of those kids," he protested.

Nathan was now behind him and began rubbing his chest. "Get off me, what are you doing?!"

"I'm milking you! Aw, this reminds me of school, that was some good times!"

"Fuck off!" he snapped after managing to get away. Nathan merely laughed evilly at his discomfort.

"That's what the kid at my school used to say and he had a nervous breakdown." He then proceeded to grab an appetizer off the nearest tray; immediately after, their manager called out to him.

"How do you feel about blowing your brains out live on national television tomorrow night?" she asked.

"Erm," he started hesitantly. He was conflicted, mainly because the pain of death was not something he would willingly inflict upon himself. He hated dying, he really did. But if that was what this whole power/fame thing meant, he supposed he would have to do it. "Yeah, I'm definitely up for that."

The others dissipated into the crowd, allowing the two to solidify the plans. Marnie couldn't say that she was particularly disappointed to hear that she would get to see Nathan shoot himself in the head. As far as she was concerned, he had it coming – a thousand times over. _Y'know, maybe they can make a show where Nathan kills himself in a different way each time,_ she thought to herself. It really wasn't such a bad idea. She'd have to remember to pitch the concept to Laura when she got a chance.

Suddenly, everyone began shouting about someone named "Daisy."

"Who's she?" Kelly asked.

"That's Daisy. More and more people with powers are coming forward," their agent answered.

"What can she do?"

"She can heal people – any illness, any disease – she plans to cure the world. She's like a pretty, modern-day Mother Teresa with a superpower. She is going to make a fortune."

As if on cue, a man in a wheelchair rolled up to her. "Let him through," she instructed the guards. The gang watched, dumbfounded, as she whispered something in his ear and began rubbing his legs vigorously. She then put her hands out to help the man from his wheelchair. Amazingly, he was able to walk (or perhaps, more accurately, shuffle). He fell at first and, to no one's surprise, Nathan laughed. However, the man quickly got back to his feet and tearfully hugged Daisy. Applause broke out across the room.

"Well, that certainly makes us look bad," Marnie muttered to Kelly, who was only able to nod wordlessly in agreement.

**xOx**

"Aw Jesus, no!" Nathan shouted mournfully in the bathroom mirror.

"What is it?" Simon asked, concern lacing his tone.

"There's pus seepin' out of my cock!" he whined.

The other boy turned away, his features contorted in revulsion.

"One of those three girls – or the girl I shagged in the toilets in the club – one of them had poor personal hygiene! This is a catastrophe of tsunami-like proportions! No girl in her right mind is gonna have sex with that!"

"I believe they call that karma."

"What?!"

"What you did to Marnie. It was very mean. I visited her today in her room and she was crying."

"You… visited her… in her room? Did you shag her?!"

"What? No!"

"Aw man, you did! I can already picture it – she's cryin', tears and snot everywhere, and _you're_ there, all timid and unthreatenin' and that… and bang! She needs someone to comfort her, and it's on. I know how that goes, I've been there – you can't fool me! That's why she was so calm and collected at the meet-n-greet today! She _knew _she'd beaten me! But what I don't get is you – how could you do that to me, man?"

"What? No, it wasn't like that at all – and what do you mean do that to you? You've just contracted some… some sexually transmitted disease from one of those girls. How could you possibly care what Marnie does?"

"Can't you see?! I'm trying to one-up her on this whole break-up thing, and now she's winning! She shagged my mate! That's a pro move, man. Now I've gotta shag either Kelly or Alisha… Which one do you think I've got a better chance with?"

Simon was barely able to fathom that this conversation was taking place, let alone immediately answer. Admittedly, he felt bad for Nathan; and true enough, he also felt bad for Marnie. But, in his opinion, Nathan was using women to distract himself from dealing with the pain of losing her – and while that certainly wasn't the right thing to do, he was able to understand his motivation. But Nathan needed to see the light – and soon – if he had any hope of reconciliation with Marnie.

When Simon had at least partially regained his ability to speak, he could only reply, "Neither. We – Marnie and I – we didn't shag. You know what you should do, you should ask that Daisy girl to cure you. You should ask her to cure you, and then you should go apologize to Marnie."

"Right. That's a good idea – the Daisy thing, not the Marnie one. She wants to cure the world, she can start with my cock."

**xOx**

Hours later, Daisy was dead and Nathan was being debriefed in front of the others.

"The police are going to want to interview you again, but they seem to be satisfied that Daisy's death was an accident," Laura informed him.

Nathan sighed and threw his head back in relief. "Thank you!" He settled into a chair and continued, "Now, I just want to say, it's a tragedy. And no one is more upset about this than me. But what's done is done, I think we should all move on, huh? Stronger, fitter, wiser."

"This could only 'appen to you," Kelly couldn't restrain herself from snapping.

Marnie sat next to her, trying with all her might not to talk. If she didn't speak, things would be infinitely better for the both of them. It was time to move past this. She still loved Nathan, but what she felt for him was fading faster than she could have ever imagined. His actions, she noticed, seemed to suggest that he still thought all this was a game; the money had sent him back light-years in his apparently now-abandoned effort to behave more maturely. It was almost like he was going on a bender. Pretty soon, she was quite sure that she would be able to forget her broken heart. The pain subsided with each sentence he spoke.

"She was gonna cure the world," Curtis added.

"Look, there's only so many times I can say I'm sorry. And if you're so cut up about it, why don't you –" he imitated the sounds Curtis makes whenever he goes back in time – "and fix this entire situation!"

"You know it doesn't work like that!"

"I'm gettin' pretty sick of hearing that."

"Prick!"

"You fuck up like this again," Laura whispered dangerously to Nathan, "and I will finish you."

"I'll try not to," he replied, visibly alarmed.

**xOx**

Later, back in Nathan's hotel room, the curly-haired, loudmouthed Irishman and Simon enjoyed a couple of single serving vodkas from the mini-bar.

"I'll tell ya what, though," he started, "It's all cleared up down there… Clean as a new pin."

Simon made a face, wholly uninterested in the state of Nathan's cock. Just then, he was saved by a knock at the door. "If you're still in hiding, you should probably do your invisible thing," Nathan suggested.

Alisha was at the door, looking hesitant and a mite perplexed.

"Oh hey!" Nathan greeted with false enthusiasm, stepping aside to allow her into the room.

"You're alone?"

"Uh huh. So you're all right then?"

She sighed, conflicted, and said, "I thought… I thought we'd feel like we made it. Y'know, all this fame stuff, it just… feels a bit pointless." She looked near tears, and stared out the window pensively.

"'Course it's pointless. That's why famous people pretend to care about the Africans."

"He – he _knew_ it would be like this."

Nathan continued to chomp on peanuts and looked at Alisha in confusion. "Who?"

"Simon… We should have listened to him. D'you know where he is?"

"No, no, I haven't seen him," he replied, shaking his head and looking around the room. He picked up a bowl of assorted nuts and offered them to her.

Ignoring him, she continued, "He said pickin' up litter was the best time of his life."

"I think that demonstrates his rather low expectations," Nathan answered seamlessly.

"If you see him, tell him he was right," she told him, starting towards the door.

"Whoa, whoa wait just a minute. Now that you're here, I have a favor to ask."

She crossed her arms over her chest, her normal, mildly confrontational air of confidence restored. "Let's hear it."

"Right. Just hear me out, okay? I think we should shag."

"_What_?! No. We're done here."

"Look, I think Marnie and Simon might've shagged," he attempted. It seemed he would have to modify his strategy.

"When?" she demanded in horror.

Realizing his mistake, Nathan replied, "Sometime back at the community center between when we split up and when Simon popped his cherry."

"You're wrong," she stated firmly. "First off, we're never shagging, _ever_. Secondly, they wouldn't do that."

"Why not? They're both single, been working in close quarters and all that nonsense. And _obviously_ Marnie was depressed about me dumping her…"

"No. She woulda told me or Kelly if she did, plus she wouldn't do that to you. Believe it or not, not everyone is as big a prick as you are."

Nathan sighed exasperatedly. "Why does everyone think _I'm_ the bad guy?! I'm getting so bloody sick of it! She's the one who started it!"

"Nathan, it's not often I do this because we are not mates, but I'm going to level with you for a minute because I can see this thing between the two of you spiraling out of control in front of my eyes. You're shagging other girls because you're angry about what's happened – I get that. But Marnie still had feelings for you when she danced with that guy and she never would have shagged him, not in a million years. You've been parading around this hotel bragging about how many girls you've fucked. So yeah, that's why you look like the bad guy."

Nathan blinked twice slowly, processing this reality check. "Right. Well, maybe I did get a little carried away…"

"Ya think?"

"Okay. Well, I'm working on it. It's hard to resist good-looking girls throwing themselves at you every which way!" he defended.

Alisha rolled her eyes and said, "Whatever you say." She then walked straight out the door.

"Sheesh, goodbye to you too," he mumbled once she was gone. When Simon reappeared on the sofa, he looked utterly puzzled.

"What's up with you?" Nathan questioned.

"That thing Alisha said before, about picking up litter... I never said that." Before his friend could say anything in response, Simon grabbed his coat and rushed out of the room to follow Alisha.

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><p><strong>Author's note: Hope you liked it! Let me know your thoughts - 15 reviews and I'll upload the next chapter straight away! I know you guys can do it, you've done it before. Thanks for reading! :-)<strong>


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's note: Thanks so much to all the reviewers! Damn guys, that was FAST. I knew you could do it! Here's chapter 23. You're probably all going to hate me.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 23<strong>

The ASBO Five – plus Nikki and Simon (who was, really, part of the ASBO group) – were sitting backstage, waiting for Nathan to put a bullet through his head in front of millions of viewers. Marnie was there primarily because she wanted to see him in pain, but also because she felt they might possibly be reaching a good place in their relationship – or friendship, rather, would be more accurate… Or even acquaintanceship.

Maybe they weren't friends. Maybe they would never be friends. But the fact remained: the hostility was evaporating. His shagging numerous women was beginning to become less and less bothersome as he, conversely, became more and more bothersome as a result of his newfound celebrity-status.

Not that he wasn't bothersome before – but something about the way his ego was swelling under all the attention was making it quite palatable for Marnie to be apart from him. It was like he was in a tailspin, his worst qualities magnified to their highest extent, while his good ones were about to disappear completely. Marnie couldn't think of any way to jar him out of it, so she supposed the best thing to do was simply accept it. Only he could take control of this situation and, as far as she could tell, he had no intention of doing so. But it was good, she thought, that she no longer felt like she was burning to death whenever he spoke of other women.

As the airtime grew nearer, Nathan washed one last slice of pizza down with a swig of beer. "If blowing my brains out live on national television doesn't get the ladies juiced, nothin' will," he assured himself in the mirror.

The burning-to-death sensation was gone, but it was replaced with a niggling pain, somewhat akin to a horrible mosquito bite. Marnie took a large gulp of her beer to try to dull the feeling.

Nathan spun away from the vanity and asked, "How do I look?"

"Like a prick in a suit," Curtis answered without missing a beat. From Marnie's perspective, however, he looked quite fit.

"That's sexual jealousy because of my prowess as a lover," he retorted matter-of-factly.

"Is it true you shit yourself when you die?" Nikki asked, causing everyone to chuckle.

"That only happened the once! And I've got a bucket standing by, just in case."

"D'you want that?" she asked, offering a piece of pizza to Curtis, "I've just lost my appetite."

"Nah, I'm lactose intolerant."

"Does that mean you're afraid of cows?" Nathan blathered.

"_No_, it means I don't eat cheese or dairy products."

"Huh. I never knew that about you," the veritable clown in a tuxedo commented. _Neither did I_, Marnie thought. _Best not to agree with Nathan, though_, she assiduously reminded herself.

"'ave I got the time to go to the toilet before you shoot yourself?" Kelly asked.

"A piss yes, a shit probably not," he answered.

"I'll come with you," Alisha said.

"Me too," Marnie piped in. "I'm feeling a little queasy."

"You're all gonna miss it!" Nathan shouted after them.

"Trust me, I wouldn't miss it for the world," Marnie replied.

While still in the stall, Alisha and Marnie heard Kelly complain, "Ew, gross!"

"What's that?" Alisha questioned.

"There's somefin' drippin' from the ceilin'! I dunno w-"

"Kelly?" Marnie called, about to leave the stall.

"Kelly," Alisha repeated.

When Marnie was in front of the sinks, she noticed Kelly lying lifelessly in a puddle of milk. Before she could react, someone grabbed her from behind and covered her mouth. The only sound that escaped was a muffled scream. Alisha must have heard this, for she said, "Quit dickin' around, guys. It's not funny."

It was then, however, that the door to her stall creaked open, revealing none other than the baby-faced lacto-kinesis asshole.

**xOx**

After shooting himself in the head, Nathan made his way to the locker room to freshen up (which included washing miscellaneous brain tissue off of his starched shirt) and mentally convalesce. Despite his immortality, dying would never be an easy thing. There was of course the pain, the sheer, agonizing terror that permeated every molecule of his being. But there was also that tiny trace of doubt, that idea that this might be it, that his power might not work. What if it's only a nine-lives gig, or something like that? He'd never know until it was too late.

It was all a very stressful experience, not to mention how he was feeling now, now that he was alone. So alone, both literally and metaphorically. No one gave a shit. Those girls, they pretended they did. But they were liars.

Nevertheless, they were also glorious distractions.

The scenery brought back memories of what it was like before, when he was still on community service. This fame had its perks. Of course it did. But there were, admittedly, things that he missed: namely, Marnie. It was useless to kid himself that he didn't.

He knew he had just about blown his chances with her. This wasn't an unfamiliar feeling for him, knowing that he'd fucked himself over beyond repair. It was how he often felt when dealing with his mother, with his father. He pushed everyone away, including and especially the people he genuinely cared about. The difference now was that, unlike his family, Nathan wasn't bound to Marnie in any tangible way. The only thing that had connected them was their community service, which was over. And their feelings for one another. But he had sabotaged even that aspect and now there was nothing.

He was wholly unprepared to see her behind him in the locker room. It startled him on several discrete levels and his reflexes kicked in immediately.

"Now I'm not bein' funny, but you might wanna fuck off out of here. I'm expecting some seriously horny, barely-legal groupies knockin' on that door any second," he snapped before he could stop himself. He chucked his deodorant back in the locker and slammed the door, almost angrily.

Why was she here? They were just going to get into another argument, and he was just going to fuck things up again. And then she would leave, leave him feeling shitty. They had been through this cursed cycle many times before. Any attempt at making up, at civility, always ended in pain and frustration.

"Nathan, please listen – I have to warn you – they're walking into a trap," she pleaded.

"What's that?" he asked, making eye contact with her through the mirror.

"The milk guy – he has Alisha."

"_What_?" he spun around to face her, worry invading his expression. "When did this happen?"

"Listen to me, let me finish," she cried. "He – he killed me and Kelly, don't you see? I'm _dead_. You have to stop them – you have to warn them! He'll kill the others, too, you have to stop them."

"Wait, wait, wait, hold on a second. You're fucking with me, right? Am I being punked? Where's the camera? Where's that guy, what's-his face? Ryan Seacrest? No, that's not it… Ashton Kutcher? Ha-ha, very funny. You can come out now," he said gravely, his green eyes scanning the room for any sign of tomfoolery.

She sobbed, "Nathan, I'm serious. Do I look like I'm fucking with you?" No. No, she didn't.

"No, this can't be happening," he mumbled vacantly. She could see in his eyes and tell from his tone that he had accepted her claim. He believed her. She was dead.

Seeing her there, so statuesque, made him forget who he was. It made him forget who everyone thought he was, who he thought himself to be. The sarcasm, exuberance, and veneer of stupidity were gone, stripped away, leaving him cold, naked, and vulnerable.

It took him longer than usual to find the words he was looking for. "I'm going to fucking kill him," croaked a gritty, foreign voice.

He wanted more than anything to touch her, to hold her, to bring her back, but he couldn't. He couldn't even touch her. That goddamn bastard had robbed him of even that.

But he could try. He rushed over to Marnie, the only girl he had ever truly loved, and let his hands hover over her shoulders. In her misty blue gaze, he could tell that she too desired nothing more than to collapse into his arms. And it would never happen. Never again.

To his mild surprise, he felt tears roll down his cheeks. There had been no warning, no prickling in the backs of his eyes or lump in his throat. Just numbness. Complete numbness. How could someone be alive one second and dead the next? He should have understood better than anyone, and yet he didn't. If anything, his power cheapened the finality of death. How could people's lives just _end_? It didn't seem possible, especially not for her. Not for Marnie.

"I'm so sorry," he choked out.

"Me too."

"All that stuff about the other girls – I didn't mean it, I only ever cared about you. It was only ever you."

"I know. It was the same for me. I just wish we hadn't been so stubborn."

"I love you, Marnie." He was breaking. He was broken. He'd thought about saying those words to her before, but never did. Not until now, now that she was dead. Now that they didn't really matter. Because he was a coward.

"I know. I loved you too." Loved. Past tense. "But you have to hurry," she continued, "You have to stop him. You have to stop him before he hurts the others."

"Okay," he agreed tearfully. "I'll stop him. I swear to god, he is going to have the most fucking painful and creative death I can think of. And Curtis, Curtis can fix this. He can bring you back. I'll do anything, anything it takes. I'll fucking threaten to kill him if I have to. _He will fix this_."

Marnie smiled sadly and quoted Curtis, "You know it doesn't work like that."

Before Nathan could reply, she then faded into the air before his very eyes. He knew his time was limited. He knew he had to find his friends and save them as quickly as possible, he knew Curtis was his only prospective savior – Marnie and Kelly's only prospective savior.

_But what if it really didn't work like that? _He felt paralyzed. And alone. More alone than ever before. He would be alone for the rest of his life.

He slid, his back against the wall, to the cold linoleum floor. His legs refused to support him. A sob racked his body and he allowed himself to cry – actually _cry_ – for the first time since he was a kid. It was odd, he realized just then, that someone who so reveled in his immaturity could have strayed so far from the innocence of his childhood.

It only lasted a minute. And then he was up again, composing himself, struggling to collect the shattered pieces of his psyche, and off to help the others.

**xOx**

Nathan exited the hotel lift with an all-consuming ferocity. He had never felt rage like this before in his life. It almost scared him. He felt like he could do anything, like he could tear this psychotic bastard to shreds with his bare hands if he wanted to. And he did, he _did _want to. There would be no wit, none of his customary humorous monologues. Just pure, unadulterated carnage.

He stomped down the hall, nearly hyperventilating. His blood was boiling. All these blasted emotions surging through in his body, they needed an outlet. They needed a scapegoat. And he knew exactly who it was going to be.

His target appeared quicker than anticipated.

"You nipple-sucking, breast-feeding momma's boy!" he snarled vehemently. "You killed them! You fucking killed _her_!I am going to _destroy_ you!"

He lunged at the harmless-looking blond, but was unable to get a shot off. He kept trying and trying, his temper propelling him, but there was a bizarre sensation in the base of his neck. It was like a rope was wrapping itself around his spine, all the way up to his brain.

"Does that feel strange?" the boy asked scientifically.

It was now becoming impossible to stand. The bones in Nathan's legs were turning to jelly; after he'd found out Marnie had died, he'd felt weak and paralyzed in an entirely different way. Now, it was like he was bounding with energy, but couldn't express any of it.

"You. Fucker," Nathan struggled to articulate. "You can't… kill me." It still came out as a taunt, despite the fact that he had lost practically all control of his body. "I'm… Im-mor-tal."

"I'm not trying to kill you," he replied, condescension heavy in his tone. "That's the mozzarella wrapping itself around your central cortex."

Nathan's eyes welled with tears and his fading consciousness screamed in opposition. This couldn't happen… This wasn't how it was meant to be… He didn't even get the chance to punish the little fucker for what he did! He… accomplished… nothing…

The light in his eyes grew dimmer and dimmer until finally, it was extinguished.

"You're going to spend the rest of your life as a vegetable," his attacker informed him. Thoroughly satisfied with himself, milk-boy fled the crime scene in search of his other intended victims.

Only a few minutes passed before someone discovered Nathan's inert body propped up in a doorway; it was Simon who first spotted him.

Recognizing his beat-up trainers, he called, "Nathan?"

He was perplexed. Nathan couldn't die. So what was going on?

He crouched in front of his friend, whose face was not immediately visible. With a shaky hand, he lifted Nathan's curly mop so that he could properly examine him.

Simon was not expecting what he saw: glazed eyes, drool, and mouth agape, all distinct signs that Nathan, as he knew him, was no longer present. Alive, but gone. Apparently there was the loophole in Nathan's power.

"Nathan," he murmured to himself. The formerly-vibrant Irishman's lips moved ever so slightly, trying to form words that they would never again utter. Needless to say, Simon was horrified.

Alisha's phone, which he had called moments earlier, continued to ring in the background. It led him to a nearby room; the door was ajar, beckoning him inside. Again, he was not prepared for what he discovered. Nikki and Alisha, both dead, rivulets of cheese blooming from their mouths like ribbons. It was then, on top of everything, that his breath hitched and the urge to cry overtook him.

Alisha.

No, this couldn't happen… They were meant to be together! She'd said so herself! He never… They never even got a chance. He'd never even been able to touch her. There was no way that this was supposed to happen, that their time together was supposed to end like this. It was all completely and utterly wrong.

He kissed her forehead, fighting his emotions and channeling all the sadness he felt into wrath. He stood, removed his jacket, and placed it over her beautiful, peaceful face. Then, he left the room, determined. Determined to stop this motherfucker, determined to save his friends. He had been right, right all along. Only trouble could come with fame. And now it was his responsibility to set things straight.

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><p><strong>Author's note: Let me know what you thought! I worked really hard on this one! I couldn't resist playing with all the feels from this episode, even if it doesn't technically happen. And <strong>**Nathan is so difficult omg. A lot of this was from his perspective as opposed to Marnie's, which is what we usually see. **

**What did you think of his reaction/thoughts? And yeah, sorry again that this happens in an alternate timeline... But at least Nathan didn't screw everything up in the proper one, right? And they're all alive? Please review! I'd love to hear your thoughts! Let's try 20 reviews this time since you managed 15 in less than a day, hm? 20 and I'll post the next chapter ASAP :-)**


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's note: Omg, you guys are killing me in the best way possible. Unfortunately I don't have the wherewithal to update twice in one day, so this was the best I could do. Thanks so much for all the reviews! Hope you all like this chapter! It's looong so I hope it will tide you over for a bit.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 24<strong>

On our second-to-last day of community service, we're all getting ready in the locker room when Curtis suddenly starts looking around crazily, like a caged animal.

"What?" Alisha asks. We all turn to him expectantly. He has that _look_, that look that he gets after he's gone back in time and seen something really fucked up.

"There's something we need to do," he replies cryptically.

And then he explains it to us, explains how we got famous after the probation worker sold us out and how some kid with the power to control milk killed all of us – literally, _all_ of us, minus Curtis. And how Simon – poor, painfully shy _Simon_ – took a knife to the gut in order to save us, in order to provide Curtis with the emotional incentive to go back in time. No biggie. Just took all of us fucking _dying_.

"Well, we gotta fook 'im op," Kelly resolves at the end of his story.

"I agree," I concur.

"Yeah, where do we find him?" Nathan questions menacingly. He seems very angry. I don't completely understand why – there was no mention of what happened to him, and he can't be killed. There's really no reason for him to get his knickers in a twist. Unless… Nope. No, Marnie, stop it.

"I know 'is name, it's Brian somefin'," Curtis says, "We can look him up."

And so we do. And after our community service is over for the day, we go straight to his flat and ring the doorbell. From Curtis' fuming demeanor, I can tell that whatever this guy did was seriously fucked up beyond the just the typical, y'know _murder,_ and his anger starting to rub off on all of us. And, well, I can't say that I'm pleased to hear about someone killing me. So there's also that…

The person who answers the door is wholly innocuous and appears no more than sixteen years old. However, we can tell by Curtis' expression that this is indeed the kid who's killed us all, and we give him our most intimidating, stone-cold glares. He seems seriously unnerved, and rightly so. Curtis then socks him in the face harder than I've ever seen him hit anyone and the kid falls to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

We leave him lying face down on the floor in a small puddle of saliva, blood, and teeth… Looks like his beauty pageant days are over. Poor Curtis' knuckles have got to be bruised.

**xOx**

I'm staring at my mobile phone, sitting on the bathroom floor. It's five o'clock, seven minutes, and ten seconds. It's been two months since Nathan moved in, two weeks since he moved out, two days since community service has ended. Two months and…

Two months. _Two_ months. And I already know where this is going. The unopened box under the bathroom sink has spurred my memory. I can add up the days, the hours of community service, the life events, _everything_, and it will all bring me to the same end.

_One_ period in _two_ months.

Well, shit. Shit fuck shit fuck _shit_. The maths isn't looking too good for me, as Nathan might say.

I'm two weeks… late. But I've been stressed. I've almost died many times. _Many_ as in almost everyday. That's gotta take a toll on your body. It has to, medically speaking. Stress induces nausea, right?

I can't be… I cringe at the mere thought of the word. I won't even think it. Two weeks is nothing out of the ordinary. I don't know why I'm so worried. I'm being ridiculous, I'm being paranoid. All those times, Nathan used condoms. And I haven't been with anyone since him. There's nothing to worry about. It's fine.

Oh god. What if… No. I can trust him. About something as serious as that, I can trust him. And let's hope I'm not… because I've definitely binged on alcohol in the last two months. Not to mention everything else that's going against me, everything else that would make for a horrible environment to… I won't even consider it. Not yet.

But deep down, the seed of doubt has sprouted roots and begun to blossom. I can try to convince myself that everything is fine for as long as I like, but I know there's only one thing that will truly put my mind to rest.

I took a pregnancy test once before, when I was sixteen. That was six years ago. Everything turned out all right, in the end. I would have done what was necessary, but luckily it didn't come to that. Hopefully my good fortune wasn't just a one-time occurrence.

I go straight home after purchasing the materials necessary to either put my fears to rest or alter my life permanently. It seems strange that an object so small should hold such an immense power.

I execute the procedure outlined in the directions and wait two minutes. Two of the longest minutes of my entire life, though not any longer than the two minutes I'd waited when I was sixteen. I wonder how my emotions might differ if this were the first time. I expect I'd be a wreck. Before, when I was young, scared, things were more complicated. I didn't know how I'd tell my mother, what I'd do. I didn't even know who the father would have been…

Now, worst come to worst, I can… take care of it. No one would even have to know, though I suppose I would be morally obligated to tell Nathan… But, odds are, this is just a false alarm. Just a simple inconsistency that can be easily attributed to all the chaos that is suddenly rampant in my life.

These musings occupy my thoughts for the two excruciating minutes, and soon a sign begins to materialize on one end of the plastic rod.

A

Pink

Plus

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Maybe it's wrong.

Faster than the blink of an eye, I rip the last test out of the box.

My heart is hammering against my ribcage and my brain is aflame. My temples burn in panic as I await the second results.

Two minutes later, I find they are identical.

Having a kid isn't an option. I'm twenty-two. Too young. _Far_ younger than I'd ever dreamed of starting a family. Although, I'd be lying if I said I was completely surprised by this turn of events. Not really, not entirely. What else happens to people like me? Scum like me enters into the same cycle of poverty we were born into: I was practically destined to get knocked up at an unexpectedly young age, have the kid, be forced to deal with its father for a few years before he fucks off with some slag – at least I'm one step ahead with that part. And then the whole thing will start over again. I don't know what I expected to happen. I have no long-term goals, no valid education, no career path. No ambition.

But I can't bring a _child_ into this fucked up world of powers and storms and dead probation workers. It's not even close to being a possibility.

I suppose I should tell Nathan, though, and soon. I'll tell him tomorrow morning. Monday. I'll call him. I don't know if he'll come. He's still pissed at me, but this is important. I'll make it clear that this is _important_.

I don't know how he'll react; his reflexive wit and sarcasm won't shield him from this, from the gravity of it all. I think maybe he'll just shut down. He doesn't really do well with matters he can't joke his way out of. But, in his defense, he does have an odd habit of coming through for his friends when they truly need him. This will certainly be the ultimate test. Maybe he'll finally forgive me for dancing with that random guy since I was _carrying his goddamn child_ while it happened. Just a thought.

**xOx**

Eventually, the time comes for me to admit the truth. He's at the door, glowering at me and looking mildly irate. But he's still come, which is promising in itself.

This doesn't mean that I think he'll take me back, or even that I want him to take me back. I just owe him the truth. That's it. Nothing more. We've both fucked up enough times in the past weeks to know that a relationship is virtually impossible at this stage.

"Come in," I state bluntly. "We need to have a chat."

He slips past me, into the flat, as if he owns the place. As if he still lived here. "If you're gonna apologize again, it's not really necessary – I'd love to hear it, but I regret to inform you that it's not gonna change anything." _Oh, this is gonna change __everything_. His actions, despite his words, are carefree as ever. He slides into a chair and props his feet up, considering me expectantly.

My brain is working so frantically that I don't really get the chance to process what he's said. "I don't really know how to say this," I start, "so I'm just going to get to the point. When we… you know… were _together_… you always used condoms, right?"

The blood drains from his face. "Um – er – uh – _yes_, generally…"

"_Generally?_" I ask, deadly calm.

"I mean, there might've been – erm – a time or two… Y'know… In the heat of the moment… But hey, relax! If you've got gonorrhea or some shit, I can assure you that it isn't from me. _I'm _clean as a whistle. Might want to inform you other partners, though, if you've been slutting around. I appreciate your letting me know me. Very considerate. As far as treatment goes, just pop down to the clinic and they'll give you some antibiotics – they work like a charm, believe me! If it's herpes, well, allow me to offer my condolences…" It seems like he might be fucking with me, but I'm livid.

"I don't have an STI," I state. I can only collapse into the chair across from him and lay my head in my hands, unable to endure his stupidity.

He snorts, but more seriously asks, "Then what, what is it? Why are you askin' these questions?" I know he already knows. He must. There's only one other possibility. But he wants to hear it from my lips. It seems such a far-off possibility that he needs to hear me say it in order to believe it.

"I'm pregnant," I tell him straightforwardly, taking my face out of my hands.

Nathan's already-large green eyes fairly bulge out of his head and he's sent into a coughing fit. When he somewhat regains himself, he sputters, "Is… Is it – is it… _mine_?"

"Of course it is, you prick!" I spit back, tears now leaving a trail down my cheeks. "How can you even ask that? Why else would I have called you?"

Seeing me cry sobers him up and snaps him out of his argumentative mood; he kneels down beside me and puts his hands on my shoulders. "Jesus…" he mutters under his breath, still – understandably – in shock. "Okay, well, ermmm… What do you want to do?"

"What do you _think_ I want to do?" I sneer bitterly.

"Look, Marnie, I know we've been in a rough patch – to put it lightly – but, believe it or not, I do want to do the right thing… about this. But you're really gonna have to spell it out for me because I have no fucking idea what to do. Just tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it." It seems he's forgiven me now, now that he knows what he's done to me.

"I can't keep it," I explain with veiled uncertainty. "I can't."

He nods solemnly and licks his lips as he prepares to talk. "Okay. Alright. If that's what you want, I'll go to the clinic with you. Just tell me when you want to go and I'll take you. Whatever you want, I'll do it."

I nod through my tears. This is his fault. He was so careless… But I suppose I was careless, too. I must have known, in the back of my mind. That time in the toilets at the club, that other time when we got drunk in the storage room – I knew. But I ignored it. I can't believe I've been so stupid…

"It was only once," he mumbles. He sounds as though he's trying to assure me, but I know he's only trying to assuage his own guilt. "I _swear_, only once. I even used one that time in the cupboard at the community center! I thought I was bein' right careful! Think of it this way, think how many times I _did_ remember! It's actually pretty impressive!" I understand now why he was being so cavalier before, why he didn't immediately understand the severity of the whole ordeal. He genuinely didn't think this was a possibility.

"It was still one time too many."

"I didn't think it'd be a big deal!" he exclaims, standing and rubbing the back of his neck. "_One _time! How's that even possible? Doesn't that defy like some law of probability or physics or some shit? It was _once_! That time… the night… at that club. The night Jamie died."

My heart softens. I'm still furious with him, but I know that I'm just looking for someone to blame. "It only takes one time. Didn't you learn anything in sex ed?"

"I was on those bloody pills, not to mention drunk off my arse!" he proceeds as if he didn't hear me, "It didn't even cross my mind until you asked just now! But I must not have used one…"

"Well," I say finally, "it doesn't really matter when or why it happened; what's done is done. I'm off work Wednesdays – maybe we can go to the clinic then."

He swallows heavily, as if to stop his throat from going dry, and momentarily stops pacing. "Alright… You're _sure_?"

"About what?"

"That you're… you know…"

"I took two tests and they were both positive," I flatly inform him.

"And you're sure about the other part too?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Of course. I'd think you'd be relieved."

He suddenly rushes over to me and takes my face between his hands. He's crouching down so that we're at the same level, searching my eyes anxiously. "Okay, okay, I know I've been a prick. Maybe I overreacted about the whole you-dancing-with-that-dickhead thing. But this is some serious shit, and I don't want you talking like that. I will go along with whatever you decide, so don't think you have to do this if you don't want to," he pleads.

"You'd have me keep it?" I scoff.

"If that's what you want!" he confirms grimly.

"You think you're ready to be a father? Don't be stupid." I let out a dark laugh. It's absurd. Completely absurd. He's the most ill suited person for fatherhood on the face of the earth. He would just leave. Just like his father. It's all a cycle. And we're not even together anymore.

"Okay fine, sure maybe I'm not the most _responsible_ of people… But I wouldn't leave ya, if that's what you're worried about! I know what that's like, and I would _never _wish that on someone, let alone my own kid." It's almost as if he can read my mind.

"You say that now, but I know how it works. You'll stick around for the first year or two and then you'll realize what its _really_ like, paying for formula and nappies and clothes, and you'll want out!"

"Marnie," he whines, noticeably wounded by my words, "I would never do that to you. Look, we're in this together – or we can be, at least. We've been through too much – killed too many probation workers – to be split apart. You know too much," he jokes. "But seriously, I would never do that. I – I realized after… that whole fucking mess with the Jesus bitch… I'm not leavin' you again. Not even if you want me to, babe. Okay, shit. This is happening," he starts. He looks as if he might be sick.

"You want me to say it? I'll say it. I… I love you… I have for a while now. But you already know that, yeah? With your psychic shit – I'm sure you've already figured it out."

"You never told me," I point out. "Not even while we were together."

"I didn't think I had to! And you _obviously_ feel the same about me…"

I hesitate, before surmising that it's pointless to pretend I don't; I nod in affirmation.

"So do whatever you feel is right," he says, "But don't think you have to get rid of it because I'll leave you. I couldn't stand to think that was the reason…"

I shake my head to ward off my newfound doubts. "We're too young," I murmur.

"We're not _that_ young," he reasons. "We're not teenagers. Look on the bright side: at least we escaped the humiliation of teen pregnancy – most birds around here can't even say that much! It could be worse… We're both working adults, you've got your own flat."

"We met doing community service, Nathan. The law recognizes us as petty criminals, and on top of that we're unofficially murderers."

"Sure, it sounds bad when you put it that way! But that was all very circumstantial! I was done in for eating some pick n' mix! Hardly a felony! All that other stuff… it was inescapable! Kill or be killed! We were just tryin' to survive!"

"Why are you trying to talk me out of this?" I ask abruptly, perplexed. The bloke is supposed to be the one pushing for an abortion, not the other way around. _Especially_ when he's the "wronged" party in the relationship. I can't help but feel like I'm trapping him into something.

"I'm not," he says quickly. "I'm just sayin' there have been far worse parents than we would be – look at our sets of parents, we can't be any worse than them," he points out. "Hell, with both our genes the lucky little bastard would be dead gorgeous! And how much better do you think it's gonna get for us in the next ten years _really_?"

That is actually a very legitimate point. While I obviously hope that my life will improve financially in the immediate future, there's no guarantee of that happening.

"Plus, the worst of all the power bullshit is over," he adds. "We're done with community service. It's not like we'd be runnin' all over the place and savin' the world and all that shit with a baby strapped to our backs."

I sigh deeply. I find it hard to believe that all the madness is simply going to end now that our community service is over. "I don't know, Nathan. I just wish we didn't have to make this decision."

"I do too," he agrees. "But it's not the end of the world – it's not as if someone's died! After all we've been through, this is actually relatively manageable."

I take his hand in mine, imploring him. He's made it very clear that this is my decision, but part of me wishes it wasn't – part of me wishes he would just tell me what he wanted. It would make it so much easier… There'd be so much less pressure…

"What do _you_ want to do?" I inquire after several moments of silence.

Taken aback, he hesitantly pulls away his hand, wets his lips, and replies, "It's your choice."

"But you must have an opinion," I press.

He stands and shakes his head wildly as if I'm trying to trick him in some way. "No, it's the girl's choice," he states firmly. "If I learned anything from those bloody god-awful sex talks with my mum all those years ago, it was that the gentlemanly thing to do is let the girl choose. It's not often that I take the high road, love, but I'm gonna do it now. I'm gonna do right by you, just you wait and see. I won't fuck this up."

"But I'm asking you! It's not as if you're pressuring me; I just want to know what you think."

His eyebrows knit together in a pained expression and he plants his hands on his hips. "I don't want to make you second guess yourself…"

"Too late for that," I snort.

The frown deepens; I can tell that this is sincerely afflicting him. "You're handling this much better than I expected," I explain. "The only think you're making me rethink is my opinion of _you_. Just tell me what you think so I can better decide what the right thing to do is."

He sends me another pained sidelong glance and crosses his arms over his chest. "You really want to know?" he questions disbelievingly.

"Obviously."

"Well, I think we'd make good parents. That's all I'm gonna say. Plus, I'm Catholic and all that bollocks, so technically I'm not even supposed to believe in abortion."

"I'm Catholic too, but that's not stopping me," I state dryly. "This is hardly the time to reconnect with your faith, Nathan, you of all people should understand that."

"You know what I mean. I care about you, Marnie, and because of that I know I would care about our kid. I mean, think about a wee baby with your eyes and my hair – it'd be so fuckin' cute," he says with a mischievous grin.

Now that the image has been planted in my head, I know it will be impossible to get rid of. It's done. The thought of our kid's physical appearance has completely put me off the idea of terminating the pregnancy.

I take a deep breath and massage my temples. "Okay then," I start, "We're having a baby."

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><p><strong>Author's note: Okay, so one of the reviewers, Sophie, predicted this and I think people have mentioned something like this happening in the past. But I didn't give any hints before this point because I wanted it to be a surprise lol, so hopefully you're at least a little surprised.<strong>

**Let me know what you thought of Nathan's reaction! Pretty please review, you guys really exceeded my expectations for the last chapter, so hopefully you can do it again. I'd love to at least get to 200!**


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's note: Holy cow, guys, thanks so much for the reviews! I can't believe we've broken 200, that seems so crazy. I remember when this story barely got a review per chapter - how far we've come! Haha but seriously, thank you guys so much. I hope you all like this chapter!**

**Oh yeah - and to address a couple of concerns: Marnie was still pregnant in the alternate timeline thing. As far as I could discern, it only seemed to take place over the course of a couple of days, so she would have realized that something was up around the time that she died. And as for this going along with the Xmas episode, this is kind of a spoiler (but also not really), don't worry, it's not an alien baby that grows super fast - she's not going to give birth in the community center lol. **

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><p><strong>Chapter 25<strong>

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Are you _sure_ you're sure?"

"Marnie, for the thousandth time, _yes_, I'm sure," Nathan answers irritably.

"We still have a little while to decide," I reason, still not entirely satisfied.

It felt good to make up, to agree that yes, we're going to have a baby, we're going to be a family; but, now that several hours have passed, I can't help but fear that I might have been a little overzealous in my relief. Making up with Nathan overwhelmed me with happiness, to the point where I was pretty much apt to agree to anything. And that's certainly a grave problem. Rashness normally isn't an issue for me, but it _is_ an issue for Nathan. And without me to keep him in check, imagine what horrors could transpire – Nathan without anything to keep him grounded is very dangerous indeed. I need to snap my head back on straight and reassess the situation.

He makes a noise of annoyance in the back of his throat and says, "Maybe _you_ still have a little while to decide, but I already told you what I think, and it's not gonna change."

"Just give it a few days. Wait for reality to set in. This is just your gut reaction, we need to see how we feel when all the dust settles."

"I'm positive that I will feel the same," he insists passionately. "What, do you think you're trapping me or something?" he snorts, as if the mere idea is laughable.

"Yeah, actually, that's exactly what I think," I state matter-of-factly.

Taken aback by my bluntness, he replies, "Well you're not. I do want this, really. I like kids."

I scoff, remembering the last and only time I've seen him with a baby. "Remember that kid with the power at the community center?" I remind him. I know he means well, but I still am not convinced that he truly knows what he is agreeing to.

He flushes, caught in his lie. "It'd be different with my own kid," he manages.

That's not reassuring. "How can you be sure?" I press.

"I just am. I can already _feel_ it – it's not just that I feel like it's the right thing to do. That's part of it, sure, but… I don't know. You said you wanted me to be more mature, right? Well, I'm trying. I can't describe it, but I just feel like it's the right thing. I'm not going to fuck this up, I swear," he repeats. That seems to have become his new mantra.

"The first thing you said when you walked into this flat, before I told you anything, was that you weren't going to forgive me," I point out.

Okay, now I know for sure that I was too quick to agree to this. But I remember the promise I made to myself, the promise I made when I thought Nathan was dead – to do the right thing. I don't want to get rid of our baby, I really don't, and I don't think it's the right thing to do. It's all hitting me at once. Sure, everything would probably be better if I did. This will probably only (further?) ruin my life. But I just don't think I'm capable of it.

Again, Nathan pales upon hearing the truth in my concerns. "You're right," he mumbles. "But I was just… frustrated. What you've been saying, that I need to grow up – I understand. I agree. I need to be an adult about this. This is _real_, this isn't something that petty jealousy can get in the way of. And yeah, okay, the thought of you with other guys makes me want to fuck someone up. But on the bright side, that's gotta be love, right? I never stopped caring about you, that's why it bothered me so much."

"I know, but you can't just run off whenever I do something you don't like!"

"I know," he agrees like a child who is being scolded. "It won't happen again, I promise."

"How do I know that I can trust you?"

He pauses, clearly unsure of how to reply. His eyes dart around the room wildly, as if he can find the answer hidden in the wallpaper or the kitchen sink. "I don't know," he says finally, "But you can, Marnie, you _can_."

"You're just agreeing to this because of what happened with your dad."

Surprisingly, he doesn't seem at all accosted by this; he unwaveringly retorts, "Maybe, but you told me that you were going to get an abortion and I told you that I didn't think you should. I wouldn't have said that if I didn't mean it – like you said, you were proposing the easy way out and I could have taken it if I thought I wasn't ready for this. And I know – I just _know_, deep down – that I am. If you want this, I want this. And maybe it _is_ because I had such a shit dad, but that doesn't mean that how I feel is wrong or insincere."

"But that thing you just said about 'if I want this you want this'… I don't you to be passive about this decision – I don't want you to just go along with whatever I say, I want you to have an opinion. The only way I'll know if I can believe you is if you have one."

"I told you, I do have an opinion," he says wearily. "I want this baby."

I wait several minutes, letting his words sink in. Whether or not I believe that he'll stick around, I still have to admit that he's convinced me to keep this baby. After imagining what it might look like, what it'd be like to take care of something that's a part of me… It'd be too hard to get rid of it now. I know myself, and I know that I wouldn't be able to go through with it. Plus, unlike him, I also know for a fact that I do indeed like children. So, if I'm going to keep it anyway, I might as well give him a shot. If it goes sour, it goes sour. And I'll probably end up getting hurt in the end. But if he wants to be there, I can't stop him – it's his kid, too.

"This is so scary," I murmur, bringing my knees into my chest.

He slides down the sofa so that our shoulders are touching and wraps his arm around me comfortingly. "I know," he admits. That seems to be all he's capable of saying these days. "But we'll get through it. It will be all right, believe me. We've faced worse, love."

"Yeah, but… This is _forever_. This isn't just like a pet or something. This is going to tie us together for the rest of our lives."

This casts an even more serious tone over the whole conversation. I resist the urge to use my power to determine his feelings because I know it gives me an unfair advantage – not to mention, as he sees it, it's an invasion of privacy.

"Marnie, I don't know how I can make this more clear," he says exasperatedly after a moment or so passes. "I really, _really_ care about you. If I'm gonna have kids someday, I want it to be with _you_."

I peer up at him dubiously, but don't try to refute his claim. He's looking at me intently, his large green orbs doing a disgustingly good job of softening my heart. I have to say, he knows how to make me feel better, at the very least.

Finally, I sigh and say, "Well, looks like 'someday' is gonna be sooner rather than later."

"Look, if you really don't believe me, use your telepathy shit or whatever it's called."

"It's called empathy," I correct. "And fine, you want me to? Do I have your permission?" I taunt cheekily.

"Yeah, go for it."

That's more than enough consent for me. I sense his thoughts; they radiate thorough the palm that's touching my shoulder and pass through my body like a current. His opinions originate way further back than today – the stuff about wanting to be a better dad than his father, that's all true. It's been true since he was old enough to even consider what his adult life might be like. And he does love me, that part is true, too.

"Okay," I agree begrudgingly, allowing the connection to evaporate. "I believe you. For now."

"Finally!" he exclaims. "Well, now that that's sorted, I gotta go." He hops to his feet abruptly and starts towards the door.

"Where are you going?" I question, my brow furrowed in confusion. So much for not abandoning me…

"I'm gonna go find a job," he answers simply.

**xOx**

When Nathan doesn't return that night, it takes me a moment to realize that it's because we no longer live together. It's good, I think, that we stay apart in terms of living arrangements. It doesn't matter that we love each other, at least not for now – what matters is that we are able to work towards a stable relationship. And that means slow, logical steps. No more being whisked away, swept up in my emotions. Nathan is impulsive enough for the both of us. I need to keep my head out of the clouds and my feet on the ground. And I have a feeling that's going to be easier said than done once the hormones kick in.

It hits me then that I should probably see a doctor at some point. It's not necessary yet, I don't think, mostly because I know precisely how "far along" I am (damn, I'm already starting to sound like a self-righteous pregnant twat). And it's not very far at all. But I should probably get some sort of medical confirmation that extends beyond a couple of home pregnancy tests.

There are an infinite number of things that this is going to entail. The scope of it hasn't even begun to set in yet. Before I even have the kid, there's going to be so much to deal with: namely, telling everyone. I can't imagine how my fellow former young offenders are going to take it. And then there's my mum – and oh god, Nathan's parents. Jesus.

Am I obligated to tell my mother? I don't really know. I haven't spoken to her in months. It seems a bit out of the blue to contact her, even about something this important. Plus, we were never close, and I have no desire to pretend that we were. The more I think about it, actually, the more I feel like I can get away with not telling her.

Nathan's parents, on the other hand, are a different story. He's going to want to tell his mum for sure. _That's _going to be interesting. I fear for a second that she might be cross with me, but, thinking back to when I first met her, she didn't seem like the type to get angry over that sort of thing. Not to mention, she also seemed fully aware of Nathan's tendency to get himself into sticky situations (no pun intended).

But all that can come later – the ones we'll have to tell first will certainly be our friends. If not, Kelly might overhear either my or Nathan's thoughts and let it slip before we get the chance. And that would certainly not be ideal.

I decide to call Nathan the next day.

"Hey," I say somewhat uneasily into my mobile, "I was wondering… Would you come to the doctor with me?"

He agrees without any audible hesitation whatsoever, saying he'll be at my flat in twenty minutes or so.

It dawns on me suddenly that we're going to need a car, preferably as soon as possible. I have no intention of walking from place to place when I'm nine months pregnant. True enough, that is, like, seven or eight months from now, but I haven't made even close to enough money working at the pub to afford one. And Nathan… Well, I suppose Nathan will let me know how the hunt for employment went when he arrives.

True to his word, he knocks on my door twenty minutes later.

"Hi," I greet – dare I say it – bashfully. I'm nervous about several things: firstly, going to the doctor is going to make this whole thing far more concrete. Secondly, Nathan coming with me is a symbol that we are, in fact, in this together, and it's a symbol that I'm not sure I'm ready to acknowledge just yet. But I don't want to face this first visit alone. It'd be too nerve-racking.

"Hey," he says, characteristically animated. "Ready?"

I grab my purse and reply, "Yeah, let's go."

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><p><strong>Author's note: So, as you guys can see, I truly do take your reviews to heart! A couple of people mentioned that they would have expected Marnie to be a bit more wary of Nathan, so I tried to incorporate that into this chapter. Let me know what you think!<strong>


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's note: Thanks so much to all the reviewers! I'm glad you all seemed to like the last chapter. Don't worry, Nathan is not going to become too serious, as you'll soon see. I started re-watching episode 7 (the Xmas special) and I realized for the first time that it takes place 3 months after community service ends. Soooooo, I had to go back to chapter 24 and take out the stuff Marnie said about it being almost Xmas because it's not accurate. I apologize for the mistake on my part! Hope you all like this chapter.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 26<strong>

In the waiting room, it's easy to distinguish those who want to be there from those who are scared shitless. Bubbly blond twenty-somethings? Want to be there. Husbands? Want to be there. Barely sixteen-year-old girls? Scared shitless. Their equally young boyfriends (there was, like, one)? Scared shitless. Nathan and I are conspicuously neutral in comparison.

Nathan, having had a day to let the news soak in, is no longer bounding with enthusiasm and professions of how much he would love our child. He is instead uncharacteristically impassive. For a while, at least.

When a nurse calls my name off the roster, he springs to his feet and wipes his palms off on the front of his trousers. "Thank god," he mutters. "Did you see those fuckers? They either looked like they were about to start discussing little Timmy's first silver rattle or like they were gonna hurl all over the carpet."

"I know," I agree. "There was a huge contrast. Starting to rethink your decision yet?"

"Not a chance, baby," he baits with a maddening grin. "It's gonna take more than a few panic-stricken teenagers to get me to lose my nerve."

"Oh yeah, cos I'm sure it's only gonna be uphill from here," I say with a derisive roll of my eyes.

We're led to a small room that has what I presume to be the bare necessities required to practice medicine. I hate places like this. They're so… clinical, and everything is the same sickening shade of blue-green. It makes me feel as if I'm just another cog in the machine.

Once we're seated on a couple of chairs, the nurse hands me some sort of questionnaire that I'm meant to fill out whilst I wait for the doctor. There are a bunch of super invasive questions about my sex life and life in general. Nathan's reading it over my shoulder, looking more and more appalled with each question.

"Do you mind?" I snap, trying to wave him away.

"What in the bloody hell kind of questions are these?" he demands, snatching the sheet away. "Oooh, any history of STIs?"

"Fuck off, Nathan." I slap him on his upper arm and reclaim the paper.

Finally, when the doctor comes in, she immediately give us a knowing smile and says, "First time?"

"I resent that," Nathan retorts dramatically. "Just cos we're young and beautiful doesn't mean you should be judgin' us. I'd worry more about those fifteen-year-old trollops out there in the waiting area, if I were you."

The woman, who looks kind enough with a pair of glasses and salt-and-pepper hair, raises her eyebrows in mild surprise. "I just meant that you look a little apprehensive," she rectifies. "What's your name, dear?" she asks me.

"Marnie," I say, shaking her hand.

"It's a pleasure, Marnie. I'm Dr. Leeds. And you're the boyfriend, I presume," she says to Nathan.

I don't exactly know if that's an accurate description of what he is to me, but, nonetheless, Nathan seems unfazed. "Name's Nathan," he responds warily.

"It's nice to meet the both of you. Now, my first question is why do you think you're pregnant? And how far along do you suspect you are?"

"I took two tests at home and they both came up positive," I answer. "And I'd say I'm about five weeks in. We're -" I clear my throat loudly, realizing that I've made a fatal error. "_I'm_ quite sure about the date of conception." We're not a we. Not yet. I can't be one of those people, one of those girls who goes around telling people '_we're_' pregnant. I'm pregnant. Nathan's just along for the ride.

"Alright. Well, for today, I'm just going to take a urine sample to confirm that you are indeed pregnant." Nathan is already cringing in the chair beside me. "Once the results are back, you can schedule another appointment if you are indeed expecting. Any questions?"

I shake my head mutely as she hands me a small plastic cup. "The lavatories are across the hall," she instructs.

When I return from the bathroom, Nathan is eying the cup in my hand like it's filled with hydrochloric acid. "I hope you've washed your hands," he says flatly.

I lurch forward and pretend that I'm about to spill it all down the front of his shirt and I swear to god I have never seen him move so quickly. "Jesus Christ!" he exclaims, scrambling back and nearly toppling over some sort of expensive-looking machine. I can't stop myself from bursting into laughter, and the doctor looks at us as if we're mentally deranged. Which, to her credit, we probably are…

"Thank you," she says stiffly after she's recovered from the near-tragedy of her equipment being destroyed. "Someone will contact you with your results in a few days. Take care." It's obvious she's only being polite in order to get away from us as swiftly as possible.

"Hey, wait a sec," Nathan says as she moves towards the door. Even though her back is turned, I can practically _feel_ her wince. "Aren't you supposed to smear some jelly shit on her stomach with that metal detector thing and such?" He mimes what he apparently believes the motion to be on his own abdomen.

"Are you referring to an ultrasound?" she questions, clearly astonished by his tactlessness.

"Yeah, yeah _that_," he dismisses, waving his hand flippantly.

"We don't do that until later; she'll have one at her next appointment. Have a good day."

And with that, a nurse comes in and we are ushered back towards the waiting room.

"Well," Nathan comments as we walk out of the building and onto the sidewalk, "that was far less traumatizing than I'd expected, actually. I'd prepared myself for the worst – I thought I was gonna have to see your fanny with all sorts of medieval torture devices pokin' out of it! And don't get me wrong, I like a fanny as much as the next bloke, but it's gotta be under the right circumstances… That whole thing back there actually went by pretty fast."

Unable to resist the opportunity, I say, "That's what she said."

"Oh, so we're cracking jokes now?" he teases. "I thought we were all about turning over a new, mature leaf and whatever other bollocks you were trying to sell."

"Aw c'mon, I didn't mean that I wanted you to be a different person," I reply, "I just meant that I want you to be able to sort out the serious moments from the not-serious ones. Honestly, I don't even care if you act like a twat – if you act like a twat while accompanying me to my doctor's appointments, I'm completely fine with it. If you act like a twat while holding a job, again, I'm completely fine with it. I'll only be angry if you're being twat in some other scenario – eating crisps in the community center while I'm _alone_ at my doctor's appointments or _alone_ slaving away to earn a living, for example. Anyway, speaking of which, have you found a job yet?"

"As a matter of fact," he says, puffing out his chest self-importantly, "I have."

"Let's hear it, then."

"Well, I'm warning you, it's not the most glamorous of things..." he starts.

"Oh god, for you to say that it's really got to be something rubbish."

"Simmer down, love, it's not _that_ bad! I did consider going into the male escort business, thinkin' it'd be pretty profitable what with my gorgeous facial structure and Adonis-like physique n' all, but I figured – and rightly so, from the look of it – that you wouldn't be too thrilled about that. So, I had to explore the alternatives, and, well, after assessing my multitude of skills and previous work experience, I arrived at picking up litter. Again. But hey, at least this time I'm gettin' paid to do it."

I pause contemplatively, eventually replying, "I suppose. Well, it's good to see that you're at least trying."

"Why thank you," he beams cockily.

"When do you think we should tell the others?" I ask abruptly.

"Tell them what? Oh – _that_. I dunno, probably when you get your piss results back," he reasons. "They're in for a right shocker! Can you imagine their faces? Oh man, it's gonna be classic." He lets out a bark of laughter at the mere anticipation of their reactions. I don't even want to know what sort of scenario he's picturing – I'm planning on being as concise and frank with them as possible, but I have the distinct feeling that he has something else entirely in mind.

Nathan walks me back to my flat and shifts his feet awkwardly, uncertain of how to part ways. He's aware that he may very well be treading into perilous territory.

"Well, I'll see ya later then," he decides upon finally, hands firmly rooted in the pockets of his sweatshirt.

I give him a kiss on the cheek and say, "Alright. Thanks for coming with me today."

His eyes light up in response to the token of my affection, and his customary, mischievous confidence seems wholly restored as the corners of his lips curl into a smirk. "Don't mention it, love," he drawls.

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes yet again, I reply, "I'll talk to you later."

"Give me a ring if you need anything!" he calls after me. I can't tell if he's being impudent or if this is a sincere suggestion, but I quickly decide that I don't really care.

**xOx**

Two days later, I get a call from the clinic – turns out, as I was already quite sure, I'm pregnant. They advise me to schedule another appointment three weeks from now, at which point I'll be able to have an ultrasound. Weird. The first thing I do is call Nathan to inform him of the new developments.

"Hey, I've got the results back," I tell him.

"And?"

"What do you think?" I reply somewhat prissily.

"I AM the father," he says, his voice dropping an octave as he quotes Maury.

"Yep. Listen, I'm just about to start my shift at the pub. Want to invite the others down for a pint and we can tell them?"

"Yeah, sure," he agrees excitedly. I feel a faint sense of dread that he's come up with some elaborate plan to give them all heart attacks.

After me, Nathan's the first to arrive at the pub. He's dressed in a black uniform, which makes me think he's arrived straight from work.

"A pint of lager please," he asks impertinently.

"Seeing as you've apparently just gotten off work, I assume you have every intention of paying for it, right?" I prod.

"Hell-fucking-no," he scoffs, "What's the point in havin' a girlfriend who's a barmaid if you can't get free drinks?"

I exhale sharply in agitation, but fill a glass from the tap nevertheless.

"Thank you, darlin'."

"So I'm your girlfriend?" I innocently throw out once he's mid-slurp.

He falters slightly, spilling a bit of the beer and getting foam all over his upper lip. He wipes his mouth crudely with the back of his hand and stutters, "Well, I mean, I just assumed…"

"No, it's fine," I stop him. "I was just clarifying."

He looks a smidgeon uncomfortable, but before he can say anything, Alisha and Simon arrive.

"I'm not bein' funny, yeah," Alisha starts, "But it's only been, like, a week since community service ended. I'm not sure if it's time for a reunion just yet... Wait a second – are you two back together? Is that what this is about? Cos to be honest, a text message would have cut it."

"No, just wait," I tell her.

Once Curtis, Nikki, and Kelly are also here and drinking their beers, Nathan theatrically starts, "So, you're probably all wondering why we called you here..."

"Ehm, not really," Kelly interrupts, taking a long swig of her beer.

"What? Well, you should be! This is a very momentous occasion. Marnie and I, we have something we have to tell you all. And you should consider it a privilege to know that you, as our friends, are the first to be informed –"

"We get it, you're back together," Nikki cuts in. "Congratu-fucking-lations. Can someone pour me another pint?"

"Will you all just let me talk! That's not what this is about – yes, that's also true, sorry ladies – but we asked you to come here for another reason."

"Just get to the fucking point," Curtis deadpans, very visibly bored.

"I'm pregnant," I state before Nathan can drag this out any longer.

Anyone who had any amount of beer in his or her mouth sprays it all over the bartop; luckily, I'm able to jump out of the way before I'm completely saturated. This initial shock gives way to choking, coughing, and laughter.

Curtis, most of all, is laughing harder than I've ever seen him laugh before. "No seriously," he manages, "That's a good one, but what's the real reason?"

"That _is_ the real reason," Nathan snaps, clearly offended.

"Right. The two of you? Parents? Bull-shit. Seriously, what is it?"

"It's true," I say.

"You and Nathan," Simon starts slowly, working things out, "You're going to have a baby?"

"Yes, Simon, very good. That is indeed what pregnancy entails," I answer tiredly. "Good to know you made it through primary school."

"Nah, I don't believe it," Curtis continues to insist.

"They're tellin' the truth," Kelly interjects, astounded. "I can 'ear them finkin' it – they're tellin' the truth!"

"Jesus Christ," Alisha mutters, covering her face with her hands. "You two? Out of all of us, it just _had_ to be you two..."

"Gee, thanks for the boatload support," I spit acidly.

"I'm sorry," she protests, "But the two of you procreatin'? My god…"

"What was it you said at the beginnin' of our community service?" Kelly starts amusedly, "'Belt n' braces,' yeah? Good to see ya took your own advice..."

"Yeah," Simon chimes in, struggling not to crack up, "And then the pair of them were arguing about how it'd be so horrible if he got her pregnant. I believe that's what they call irony."

"Hey, I for one am deeply hurt by all this negativity!" Nathan says, putting his hand over his heart. "I thought this was a judgment-free space! I was expectin' loads more cheering and fanfare and the like, what's wrong with you people? You lot really need to work on your congratulatory etiquette, I mean _really_!"

"We're not judging you," Simon starts pointedly, "We just don't know if the world is ready for Nathan Young's offspring."

"That's enough cheek out of you," he tells him, "I preferred you when you suffered from a crippling shyness!"

Kelly snorts. "Fine then, we're all very 'appy for the both o' you," she says.

"Thank you," Nathan answers haughtily, ignoring her sarcasm.

"So you're havin' it then?" Curtis says, still obviously unnerved and surprised.

"No, Curtis, I decided to tell you all before I go in for the abortion tomorrow. Wish me luck," I say dryly. Nikki give me a disapproving glare, but they're the ones in the wrong here, not me.

"I dunno," he defends, "You could be givin' it up for adoption or sommit!"

"How dare you even suggest that we give our future son or daughter up for adoption!" Nathan exclaims. "What kind of monster are you?" He's being predictably over-the-top about this whole thing...

"There's nothing wrong with putting a baby up for adoption," I amend, "But no, that's not what we're doing."

"Fuck," Curtis murmurs under his breath. "I can't believe it."

"Well, you'd do well to start," I reply. "Cos if you're on your best behavior, soon enough you'll all be called 'Auntie' or 'Uncle.'"

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><p><strong>Author's note: Hope you all like it! I go back to school very soon (I have a reeeeeaaaaally long winter break), so I don't know if I'm going to be able to post another chapter in the near future. I might be able to squeak one more in before I go back. But please, review, review, review! Reviews are what allow this story to continue. Oh yeah - and also, I know next to nothing about being pregnant, so if anyone has any tips or advice about writing about it, I would very very much appreciate hearing it. Seriously, like, I know NOTHING besides the stuff that is general knowledge. Please review! I hope Nathan was in character!<strong>


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